The Divide
by Beedle
Summary: When only one Hogwarts letter arrives for identical twin sisters, Juliet and Jennifer Belstone find themselves separated for the first time in their lives. Desperate to be reunited, they ask...could a Squib ever become a witch? And so their quest begins: a difficult and dangerous search for a source of magical power. Can they ever bridge the divide?
1. The First Letter

**Disclaimer: the world and inspiration is J.K. Rowling's, I am merely playing with her wonderful creation. A few characters are my own.**

 **There will be some small Fantastic Beasts spoilers later in the story.**

* * *

PROLOGUE

Both of us.

Eleven years ago, we curled together in our mother's womb, two tiny hearts beating in tune. Now, we are perfect mirrors of each other: long dark hair, blue eyes. We walk in step and speak in unison whenever we choose. We feel sorry for our classmates: none of _them_ are identical twins. They seem to think we're strange, but we don't care.

We're different from them in other ways, too. Sometimes funny things happen around us. We call them our fairy powers, and they definitely aren't normal.

A few years ago at school, a great bullying slab of a boy called Gavin Hooker cornered us against the fence at the far end of the playground. Everyone knew he was a right violent nutcase and that day he had a seriously ugly look on his face. Before we could run, he'd shoved Jennifer against the fence with his shoulder. He was holding a box of matches. When he lit one, we both began to scream, but nobody was close enough to hear us. "You're such _freaks_ ," Gavin spat, his lip curling. "I'm going to _fix_ you. Everyone'll be able to tell you apart after this." He lifted the match close to Jennifer's right cheek as she struggled and shrieked, "Juliet! Juliet!"

Then Gavin had let go, roaring with pain. The match had _jumped_ : wriggled like a little wooden snake out of Gavin's fingers and sprung off his hand at his face, just missing his eye. As he stumbled away in oafish terror, Jennifer picked herself up and we looked at each other, eyes sparkling. Our fairy powers. They only surfaced occasionally, but they were there.

We knew we were special, and we kept it secret. Totally secret, until our eleventh birthday.

* * *

 _August, 2018._

Jennifer

I woke early, remembering it was our birthday just before I opened my eyes. Juliet was just sitting up, and she flashed me a smile.

"Happy birthday morning!"

"Woohoo! I love how it's always in the holidays!"

I jumped out of bed and threw Juliet some clothes. She caught our favourite pair of matching purple stripey socks. "Yeah, imagine spending today in _school._ "

We finished pulling on our clothes in the same moment, and ran downstairs.

Dad laid down his paper. "Happy birthday, girls."

The kitchen smelt incredible. "Ooh, has Mum been baking?" Juliet asked eagerly.

"I'm glad you're up," Dad said, as Mum carried over a tray. "I wasn't allowed one before you came down."

"You aren't getting these again before next year, mind."

"Wow, Mum..."

Hot cinnamon buns! This was a massive treat. Mum could be a pretty great cook, but she was into health food in a _big_ way.

"This makes an exceptionally pleasant change to Weetabix," said Dad, helping himself to a bun as Mum poured herself black coffee.

"I'll say," I said, my mouth full. My eyes met Juliet's. "So...when can we open our presents?"

"Who says you've got any presents? Children only get presents up to the age of ten. After that they give their hardworking parents presents instead, as payback for the previous ten years," said Dad solemnly from behind his paper.

"Da-ad..."

Dad grinned, then reached behind the toaster. "All right, here you go..." He tossed us each a little package.

"No way!" Juliet said, feeling the present inside the wrapping paper, just as I was doing. Just the right size and shape. We ripped off the paper in the same moment and two sleek mobile phones fell into our laps.

"Yes! Awesome!" we said together, and high-fived. We'd been begging to be allowed them for _years_. Everyone else we knew had one, but Mum and Dad had always insisted they were unnecessary in primary school.

"We thought they would be useful in September," Dad said, with a little smile.

Next month, we were starting at Greenhill Academy, a thirty-minute bus ride away.

"Perfect July weather," said Mum, looking outside. "And we promised you a birthday picnic on the beach, remember! Should be warm enough to swim..."

"Yeah, maybe..." I said distractedly, intent on inserting the battery and SIM card. Juliet pulled out the kettle and toaster plugs and we plugged our phones in to charge.

Skim-reading the manual, Juliet said in a disappointed voice, "We're supposed to leave them for twelve hours, for the first charge. We can't use them till this evening..."

"Oh, the tragedies of youth," Dad said, in a mock sorrowful tone. "What a -"

 _Tap-tap-TAP!_

All of us jumped, and Dad broke off in surprise.

"What on earth was that?" Mum said, frowning.

 _Tap. TAP-TAP!_

I looked behind me at the kitchen window, and my mouth dropped open.

Dad pushed his chair back and stood up. "What on earth -"

On the window ledge was a large tawny owl with a letter clamped in his beak, rapping impatiently at the glass.

 _TAP! TAP!_ The bird shook his head, jerking the letter at us. His meaning couldn't have been clearer, and at last, Mum shook her head weakly and started to move towards the window.

"Don't let it in, love!" said Dad, alarmed. "It could be dangerous - it could have rabies."

"Don't be silly," said Mum, undoing the latch and tugging at the window, which was stiff as we rarely opened it. "Someone's obviously trained it to deliver letters. Why would they tame a rabid owl?"

"But -"

The window flew open and Mum stumbled backwards, as with a whirr of wings the bird fluttered in. It landed heavily on the kitchen table, dropped the letter, clacked its beak at us (in a way that clearly said "finally!"), and flew off before any of us really knew what had happened.

For a while, nobody spoke. I watched the disappear to a speck in the blue sky. This was so weird, for a second I wondered if I hadn't woken up yet.

Breaking the spell, Dad at last reached out and picked up the envelope, which had fallen face-down on the table. The envelope was thick, yellowy and discoloured, and on the back was a dark red wax seal. He turned it over and looked down at it for a moment.

"Oh," he said, in surprise. "It's for you, girls."

"For us?"

I was closest, and took the letter when he held it out. It was a fat envelope, stuffed full.

The address on the front was in dark green ink.

 _Miss J. Belstone_ _  
_ _The second bedroom,_ _  
_ _33, Honeypot Lane,_ _  
_ _Mucklebridge,_ _  
_ _Devon_

Juliet reached out to feel the thick paper with her fingertips, wonderingly. I passed her the envelope and she turned it over in her hands, looking at it closely.

"Is this some kind of crazy birthday surprise, Dad?" I asked suspiciously. "Are you acting? Did you hire a tame owl?"

Dad shook his head. "I'm afraid I'm not that ingenious. But maybe you have an eccentric relative none of us knows about. Who breeds owls. And, er – gets them to deliver birthday cards." He sipped his coffee, bemused.

Juliet slid her finger under the flap and opened the envelope halfway, then passed it to me to finish. "This is the strangest birthday card we've _ever_ had," she said.

There wasn't a birthday card inside, but what seemed to be several folded sheets of old paper, thick and yellow like the envelope. I tugged out the top sheet and flipped it open, noticing the intricate coat of arms printed at the top.

Juliet leaned in close to read it with me.

 _HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY_

 _Headmistress: Minerva McGonagall, Order of Merlin (Third Class)_

 _Dear Miss Juliet Belstone,_

 _We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, a prestigious school for young people with magical abilities. You will most likely have already noticed these abilities surface, in some form or another. At Hogwarts you may expect to develop, refine and control these magical powers, and learn everything necessary to assimilate yourself later into the wizarding community._

 _Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment and some more essential details about Hogwarts School for your parents. Term begins of 1st September. Information on where to purchase your school supplies and uniform, and how to get onto the school train, will be sent out once an affirmative answer has been received._

 _Please reply by owl tomorrow. I will be happy to answer any questions you might have._

 _If a reply is not received, you may expect a visit in person._

 _Yours sincerely,_

 _Minerva McGonagall_  
 _Headmistress_

Silence. Absolute silence. I gripped the letter so hard it nearly tore. The list of books and equipment fell out and Juliet picked it up wordlessly and read it, while I scanned the letter again, stunned.

 _Dear Miss Juliet Belstone..._

Juliet.

We had, we all had, just assumed the letter addressed Miss J. Belstone, was for us both. People had occasionally addressed letters meant for both of us this way.

There was a ringing in my ears and I gazed blankly down at the letter, feeling my whole world drop away in that moment.

Dad had read the letter over my shoulder, blinking very fast, and now he tugged it from me and held it out to Mum, who read it through very carefully, swallowed, and then looked at my sister in utter astonishment. For a moment, it was as though I wasn't even there.

From far away, it seemed, I heard Juliet stammer, "I – I don't understand!"

Wordlessly I ran my fingers over the letter. It was quite obviously authentic. The heavy wax seal hadn't come from a joke shop, it was too detailed to be a hoax, and it had been delivered by an real live owl, for heaven's sake. Besides...we always _knew_ we had fairy powers. And now here was an offer of a place at a school, a school of witchcraft and wizardry...it should have felt so right. But...

My insides were clenched in a tight knot: fear and confusion clawing at my gut. At last I looked over at my sister. Juliet seemed stunned, her mouth slightly open, her lips dry.

Now, panic was rising in my chest, and I heard myself speak as though in a dream.

"Where's _my_ letter?"

For the first time in our lives, Juliet looked as though she didn't know what to say to me. "Jen – I -"

I interrupted her, breathing shallowly. "This is yours," I said, a catch in my voice. "Where's _mine_?"


	2. The Second Letter

_August, 2018._

Juliet

No one answered.

"Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," Mum read from the letter, sounding completely floored. "This is some kind of joke..."

"It's not," I said quietly.

"But, Juliet," Dad said, running his hand through his hair, "This letter says you're a _witch!_ Of course it's a joke - it _has_ to be a joke!"

Jennifer seemed to have frozen, and she had gone very pale. I looked at her anxiously, then back to my parents.

"It's not a joke," I repeated. "We – we have powers. We can do - well, weird stuff. Sometimes."

In my mind's eye I saw the wriggling match in Gavin Hooker's hand, the wood contorting unnaturally as it struggled free. Mum and Dad looked at each other, then back at me, as though they were worried for my sanity. I sighed and related the story, and, when they looked unconvinced, another. That time we'd been climbing the old oak in the park. We'd gone higher than we'd climbed before, and reached a branch which looked wide enough and comfortable enough for us both to sit on. But it was rotten inside. It had jerked and snapped with terrifying suddenness. As we'd been hurled downwards, I'd grabbed onto Jennifer in terror, sure we were going to die - but seconds later we were safe on the ground, on our feet.

"There were other occasions," I said. "Whenever we were in danger. Stuff just - you know - happened. Didn't it, Jennifer? Jen?"

I added the last bit desperately, shaking my sister gently by the arm. She still hadn't said a word and was now gazing out of the window, which was still open after the owl's departure.

Dad shook his head helplessly.

"This is some kind of hoax _..._ "

"It's not a hoax," I said earnestly. "We thought they were fairy powers. Honestly, Dad."

Dad still didn't look convinced at all, but then Jennifer took a deep breath and said in a low voice, still looking out of the window, "It's true, Dad. We've known for ages."

Mum had been reading my letter carefully, without saying a word. Only now did she look up, and gave Dad a small nod.

"I think this is genuine, Peter. I really do."

There was a very long silence.

"Okay, " Dad said eventually, although I could see he didn't really believe it. "Okay. Well! A witch! Right then. Excellent. What are we supposed to do about – about _this_? We await your owl – we're supposed to reply by owl? Well, that's easy! I'll just nab one from the woods! For goodness' sake." He gestured helplessly at the letter. "And as you say – where _is_ Jennifer's letter?"

I felt helpless, seeing that Jennifer was clearly on the brink of tears.

"I'm a witch too," she said in a small voice. "My letter must have been lost – it _must_ have!"

"Definitely," I told her, desperate to believe it. "Your owl could've dropped it, or got lost – or hit by a drone – or eaten by, well, whatever eats owls..."

"I'm sure we'll find out," Mum said briskly. Oddly, she seemed to be processing the news much better than Dad and gave me a funny little look, as though she knew something I didn't. "Let's give it twenty-four hours before jumping to conclusions, shall we? I'm sure your letter is on its way, Jennifer. Let's get ready for our picnic, and maybe yours will arrive this evening or with tomorrow's post."

Thirty minutes later we were all climbing down the steep cliff path to our favourite beach, a hidden cove not many people knew about. We built a giant sand tortoise together, then threw ourselves into the sea, which wasn't too cold after the long, hot summer. It was a really beautiful day, and splashing amongst the waves, we almost forgot about the letter for a little while.

After we'd eaten the picnic food Mum actually produced a birthday cake from the bottom of the basket, and candles, although the wind kept blowing them out for us so we couldn't make a proper wish. I caught Jennifer's eye on the third attempt. She looked a little pink and flustered. I knew what she wanted to wish for, as it was the same thing I wanted. But Mum laughed and said she wasn't going to waste any more matches and so we cut the cake without wishing at all.

When we got home we saw immediately that there was no owl, no letter, and a little furrow appeared in Jenifer's forehead. We didn't mention it that evening. But she played very quietly on her phone that evening and I stared at mine, not really seeing it at all. Tomorrow there would be a letter. There _had_ to be...

* * *

The next morning was a Monday, and Dad always left early for work so he was gone before we got downstairs. Mum watched us both anxiously as we poured cereal and milk into our bowls, neither of us speaking. Jennifer's and my eyes flicked constantly towards the window where the owl had appeared yesterday.

"Maybe we can go out somewhere today," Mum suggested gently.

I looked at her, surprised. "What about work?" Mum works from home, so she never normally takes us out during the day.

She shrugged, glancing sympathetically at Jennifer. "I can catch up tomorrow. It might be nice to all get out together."

 _And not watch the window all day._ She didn't say it but I knew that was why. I shrugged.

"It's up to Jen -"

But just that moment, Jennifer made a strangled noise and dropped her cereal spoon. I looked outside and my breath caught in my throat. A speck had appeared in the sky, zooming closer towards us...a bird, a large bird –

"Yes!" Jennifer cried, her face lit up with joy. "Yes!"

"It's here! It's your owl! _Awesome!_ "

We both dived for the window. Jennifer's trembling fingers slipped on the catch and I had to help her. We threw it open just as the owl reached us, soaring into the kitchen in a flurry of magnificent tawny feathers. He skidded across the table, and Jennifer, laughing, flushed with excitement, ran to him.

And stopped dead. The owl wasn't holding a letter in his beak and he was looking at me. Not Jennifer, but me. And holding out his leg expectantly.

"Wh-what does he want?" I stammered, looking at Jennifer, and Mum.

Jennifer looked completely stunned, and then slowly, bitter realisation dawned on her face. Without a word, she turned and walked rapidly out of the room, shutting the door behind her with a snap.

"Hey, Jennifer – _Jen!_ Wait!" I started after her, but Mum caught my arm.

"Leave her for a minute, Juliet," she said quietly.

I struggled. "Let go of me!"

" _Wait_ , darling. I think this owl needs an answer, don't you? We need to write and tell this school – this Hogwarts – that we've got the letter and you'll be going."

I glared at her and wrenched my arm free. "I'm going to find Jennifer. _You_ write if you like. Ask this McGonagall woman where Jen's letter is. If she's not invited, I'm not going."

With that, I stalked out of the kitchen.

* * *

After that second owl came, for the first time in my life Jennifer wouldn't or couldn't talk to me. For the next few days my Hogwarts letter lurked in the corner of the kitchen, like a sinister creature crouching there, silent and cruel. She turned her face to the wall each night as I whispered, pleading, "Jen...please, let's talk about this...we still don't know that yours hasn't been lost." I always knew that she was lying awake, too.

A couple of days later when we were all sat in the living room, Mum said quietly to me, "Juliet, we'll need to think about getting you your school things before the first of September. There was a list, but I don't know where –"

I cut her off abruptly. "I'm not going."

Dad lowered his paper just a little, listening. On the other side of the room, Jennifer's forehead was furrowed, and she wasn't looking at either of us.

"But –"

" _I'm not going_. Jennifer's a witch too, that's obvious from the times we've accidentally used magic. I'm not going to any school that picks and chooses like that and would try a dirty trick like splitting up sisters – _twin_ sisters! If they want to take me, they just have to offer Jen a place too, else I'm staying here."

It was the longest speech I'd made since my letter arrived. Mum fell silent and exchanged a worried glance with Dad across the room. I saw Jennifer's mouth twitch into a tiny smile.

That night, for the first time in three nights, Jennifer didn't turn her face to the wall.

"Thanks, Juliet," she whispered, in the dark. I could see my face reflected in her eyes. I knew if I could magnify my reflection I would see her face in my eyes, and so on _ad infinitum_... I reached across the gap between our twin beds and we hooked fingers together, like we used to do when we were little and making a wish.

"I meant it. I won't go unless they offer you a place."

"I know...and now we know, don't we, we're witches. _Witches_ , Juliet! We can teach ourselves without going to any stupid school. There has to be stuff on the internet about all this, if there's a school, there's obviously plenty of others in the country..."

We talked late into the night until our eyes grew heavy and we fell asleep, fingers still hooked together.

But when we walked down to the breakfast table I knew immediately something was wrong. Mum was clutching a piece of parchment in her hand and one glance showed me the discarded envelope on the table and the tawny owl perched on the chair chewing up a piece of Weetabix. The look Mum gave us as we walked in the room – anxious, scared, pitying – stopped us both dead.

"What is it, Mum? _Mum_? _"_

"Oh, darlings," she said tremulously. "I'm so sorry. I don't know how to tell you." Her voice shook uncontrollably and then she thrust the parchment at us, not meeting Jennifer's eyes. "You'll have to read it. Just – don't..."

Don't what? I took the parchment, and scanned it quickly. As I read, nausea and dizziness overcame me and I sank into the nearest chair. Jennifer remained standing, her face drained of colour.

 _Dear Mrs Belstone,_

 _Thank you for your reply and your enquiry into a possible place at Hogwarts for your second daughter, Jennifer Belstone. However, I am sorry to tell you that we have no record of a second witch in residence at your address._

 _I appreciate that this would appear to be a delicate situation and an unusual one as you say the girls are twin sisters. However, our records are never wrong: there is only one magical person living with you. It is my painful duty to inform you that your daughter Jennifer cannot, therefore, be a witch, and as such we cannot offer her a place at the school._

 _You detailed two circumstances of magical activity in which both girls were involved; however, considering their close proximity at the time, I would suggest that each magical outcome was the sole work of Juliet Belstone._

 _I understand from your letter that Juliet is reluctant to attend Hogwarts without the company of her sister. This does present certain complications which will be better explained in person._

 _I will call at your residence this evening at six o'clock to discuss this further._

 _Kind regards,_

 _Professor Minerva McGonagall_

 _Headmistress_ _  
_ _Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

Jennifer didn't speak. Nor did I for several long, terrible minutes as we digested the contents of the letter. _The sole work of Juliet Belstone..._ Making that lit match wriggle out of Gavin's fingers – getting us both out of that tree when we were going to fall – it was me. Not we. Just me.

A funny rasping sound made us all turn our head. The owl, which I'd forgotten about, was choking on its dry Weetabix.

I ignored it, took a long, deep breath, then held the letter out at arm's length and dropped it on the kitchen floor. I deliberately trod on it as I walked out. Jennifer didn't follow me.

I paced up and down our bedroom for what seemed like hours, unable to take it in. These letters - these letters were poison.

After a while I got into bed and pulled the covers over my head. It made a den, a space where I could be alone with my whirlwind of thoughts. My own emotions were mixed with those I knew Jennifer must be feeling. Pain, hurt, humiliation, denial. Fury. But most of all, fear. After a while, exhausted, I dozed.

A long time later I woke suddenly and knew from the golden quality of the sunlight filtering into our bedroom that it was late afternoon, and checked my phone. Five minutes to six. My stomach gave a horrible jolt. This McGonagall woman was going to be arriving any moment now.

Still, I was the tiniest bit curious to see what a real, adult witch looked like. I got up slowly, gnawing off a hangnail, then steeled myself went downstairs. Mum, Dad and Jennifer were already in the living room. I went to sit next to Jennifer. No one spoke, but Mum threw us both an anxious look.

Although we were ready for it, we still all jumped when the doorbell rang shrilly.

Mum took a deep breath as she got up and went to answer it.

A murmur of voices. A moment later Mum came back in, followed by a very tall woman in black robes and a long purple cloak, with a pointed hat in her hand. Her greying hair was scraped into a very tight bun, and she wore a brisk, but kind expression as she looked around the room and settled her appraising gaze on me. I couldn't help it – I blinked.

The witch nodded curtly to each of us in turn. "Good evening."


	3. The Headmistress

_August, 2018._

Jennifer

Professor McGonagall's gaze flickered briefly over me – pitying, I thought, then a second later I was forgotten. She turned to my sister.

"Juliet, I presume," she said.

Juliet opened her mouth to protest – how could she possibly know which of us was which? No one ever could, and even Mum and Dad got us mixed up all the time. But Professor McGonagall seemed to anticipate Juliet's question and said kindly, "Magic always leaves a trace, Miss Belstone."

We glanced at each other, unsettled for a moment, then Juliet frowned and seemed to gather herself together, ready to launch into a speech.

"B-before you waste any time on me, Miss," Juliet began, stammering as she looked up into the teacher's strict face. She took a deep breath and the rest came out in a rush: "I'm _not_ going to Hogwarts. It's just not fair! It's not _fair_ that I'm a witch and Jennifer's not! And I'm not going to some stupid school miles away and leaving her behind. It would be like leaving half of _me_ behind, and I won't do it. And you _can't_ make me."

I felt a warm rush of love for my sister, sticking up for me like this. I squeezed her hand and spoke up. I was ready to fight my corner.

"How _can_ only one of us be magic anyway, Professor, it doesn't make sense, we're _identical twins._ We're exactly the same - that's biology! If you make Juliet go she'll run away, or I'll run away to find her."

McGonagall said nothing, just looked at us both with an expression I couldn't bear. Understanding, and kind, but without a flicker of agreement. Juliet gripped my hand even more firmly.

"I – I made a pot of tea just now," said Mum, getting up. "I'll pour us all a cup. I think we need to calm down and talk about this properly."

"We do indeed," said McGonagall firmly as Mum hurried out. "It's a little more complex than you think. I'm sure you'll have a different perspective after I have explained everything."

Mum came back in carrying a tray laden with teapot, cups and a plate of flapjacks and handed me and Juliet full cups of tea before we could refuse.

McGonagall accepted a cup too and sat down in the armchair Dad pulled out for her.

"I won't beat around the bush," she said crisply. "I mentioned in my letter that there would be certain complications arising from any refusal to take up the place at Hogwarts offered to you, Miss Belstone." I opened my mouth but she held up her hand and said firmly: "Please reserve any questions until I have finished. Firstly, yours is an unusual situation, but not without precedent. Somewhere in your ancestry there will be a witch or a wizard. Magic is inherited, but it is not a scientific force. In fact, it is quite the opposite. It does not follow the same rules."

She sipped her tea and continued.

"Most unfortunately, in your case, it has not chosen to surface in both of you. We can pick up magical ability from birth. Juliet, and Juliet only, is a witch. I'm sorry, but that is the way it is."

My jaw clenched. I looked at the floor as McGonagall said calmly, "Yet you are correct in saying that we cannot make you go to Hogwarts. You have no legal obligation to take up your place. However, there _is_ a law, which has been in effect for many years, that every witch and wizard between the age of eleven and seventeen in Great Britain must receive a form of magical education for the duration of these years. This is for their own and others' safety."

"For their safety?" Mum asked. "What do you mean?"

McGonagall laid down her cup carefully on a side table before replying.

"Magic is a hugely powerful force," she began, pursing her lips. "When not harnessed properly it can be exceedingly dangerous – ruinously so. Terrible things have happened when children were not taught to control their powers. Truly terrible. Suffice it to say that ninety years ago the Ministry of Magic passed legislation which made it compulsory to receive a proper magical education. They must attend a school."

Dad cleared his throat. "How about home tutoring?" he suggested. "A reasonable compromise, I imagine?"

Home tutoring! That was a brilliant idea. I looked eagerly from Dad to McGonagall, but my brief spark of hope was quickly stamped out. McGonagall was already shaking her head.

"Home-schooling was ruled inadequate by the Department of Magical Education. It is almost impossible for a tutor to adequately cover the whole spectrum of magical learning to the necessary levels. Standards slip. The risk is too great. Now, as I said, we cannot force you to go to Hogwarts, Miss Belstone, but it is quite the best magical school in the country – and I'm sure you will love it there, once you adjust to the – er – different circumstances..."

Juliet slammed her undrunk tea down so hard it slopped all over the table. "I will _not_ love it and I am NOT going," she said furiously. "I already told you!"

" _Juliet_ ," Mum hissed, "Mind your manners..."

But McGonagall looked unruffled. "You do not have to go to _Hogwarts,_ Miss Belstone. But you must receive some form of magical education. There are other – institutions," she said, her nostrils pinching in distaste. "Hogwarts is not large enough to take every child with a spark of inherited magic within. But these schools are - how can I say this kindly – very poor places. Standards are lower, and they receive far less Ministry funding. Some of the students they teach have are barely more than Squibs. Oh, there might be the odd one, a witch or wizard of good magical stock whose parents wish to have them closer, so they can live at home instead of boarding. But on the whole they just aren't the kind of school any witch or wizard _wants_ to go to. And when you have a place at Hogwarts, you'd be quite mad to turn it down in favour of, to name just two prime examples, Axbridge Academy of Wandwork, or Selburton Spell School. And I'm afraid to say that as it happens, the nearest other magical school to your place of residence is still a fair distance away; you would have to board there, also."

"Well then," Juliet said stubbornly. "I want to go to Selburton Spell School rather than rotten old Hogwarts. It won't matter. I'll hate both."

"Don't be silly, Juliet," Mum said quietly, but my heart was sinking. The conversation had already shifted. Juliet was still furious, but she was already talking about which school to go to.

McGonagall pursed her lips. "Your choice of school is your own. But you must choose, nevertheless. Otherwise the Ministry of Magic will be forced to step in."

Dad had been munching on his flapjack, clearly considering every word very carefully. He coughed at this and swallowed the last few oat crumbs. "Excuse me. _Step in_? What would this – Ministry of Magic – propose for my daughter, otherwise?"

McGonagall closed her eyes briefly. "As I explained, Mr Belstone. It is highly – _highly_ – dangerous, for a young witch or wizard to receive no magical training. As they grow, without proper direction, they will find magic spilling out of them when excited or stressed, which would inevitably draw attention from the Muggle community. It would violate our most critical magical laws. The Ministry would have to make sure any child who refuses to be educated is – how can I say this – _safely contained_. We work very hard to conceal ourselves, Mr Belstone, for _everyone's_ benefit – I am sure you will have heard of medieval witch-burnings in Britain, and of the Salem witch trials in the United States. We simply cannot have children running amok, at the risk of exposing us all. And it is not only that. Magical education is crucial also for Juliet's own protection and well-being. If she were to try to live as a Muggle - a non-magical person - and contain her powers, they could explode outwards, uncontrolled, unstoppable. It can be indescribably destructive, and -" McGonagall hesitated "- quite often fatal."

My heart had been sinking lower and lower for the duration of this woman's speech and I could see Mum, Dad and Juliet all looking utterly horrified as the impact of her words sank in.

"So what you are saying," Dad quietly summed up, with his eyes closed and his hand pressing his forehead: "Is that if Juliet doesn't go to school to learn to become a – a trained witch – she will be shut away by a squad of powerful wizards to prevent her accidentally exposing your world to ours – and to save her from herself...or she could die."

McGonagall nodded slowly. "She would be taken to a safe institution where the Ministry could keep an eye on her magic as she grows and be ready to...step in...if necessary. But you see now, that all this is really a quite _ridiculous_ eventuality? It is what _would_ happen if Juliet refuses to go to any magical school. And you girls would be split up anyway. But it is completely unnecessary, because to avoid it, all she has to do –"

"- is to accept the place at Hogwarts," I finished, flatly.

"Or Selburton," Juliet said stubbornly, after a pause.

"Forget it, Juliet," I said wearily. "If you're going away, you're going away. Just go to Hogwarts. There's no point in going somewhere even more horrible out of spite. Even for me."

Juliet gave a small shrug, tears in her eyes as she stared at the carpet. "Whatever. I don't care any more."

"It is not the ideal solution," said McGonagall, addressing us both with that same expression of kindly pity. "But you can see that it is the best. And you can see each other _every_ holiday."

I felt blank inside, unable to process that this was actually happening.

As Mum, Dad and the Headmistress began to discuss some practical aspects of the school, Juliet whispered to me, "Stuff their whole rotten system. I'm not giving up, you know."

I knew that expression. When Juliet wanted something really, _really_ badly, she usually got it. Somehow, some way. Whatever it took. Perhaps there would still be something we could do.


	4. Diagon Alley

_August, 2018._

Juliet

"Well, I'll say goodbye," said Professor McGonagall, drawing her cloak around her shoulders. "Do you mind if I return to Hogwarts by Floo? I took the liberty of connecting your house to the network for the evening. I wouldn't have been so rude as to come in this way, of course..."

Mum and Dad stared at her, nonplussed.

"If I could travel back via your fireplace, I mean to say?" McGonagall clarified.

"Oh," said Dad. "By all means. Why, er - I mean, why not."

"Thank you. It's more convenient than Apparating to Hogsmeade."

She lit a fire with a jab of her wand and threw some glittery green stuff onto it from a box in her pocket which made the flames leap up, now bright green. Then as calmly as getting on a bus, McGonagall stepped into the fireplace, and vanished with a cry of "Hogwarts School!" The roaring green flames disappeared, leaving only a pile of warm ash.

Dad ran a hand over his face then rubbed his forehead very hard.

So, I was going to Hogwarts. Obviously, I didn't want this magical power exploding out of me and hurting loads of people, or accidentally killing myself. But my mind was made up. Somehow, I would find a way to get Jennifer to Hogwarts, too.

Dad was stooping over the fireplace. Some of the glittery green stuff McGonagall had thrown into the fire was scattered on the hearth, and he pressed a finger into it, examining the sparkling powder closely. "Incredible," he muttered. "Who'd've thought..." He brushed the flecks of powder into the fire, which was still burning away, and the flames turned green and leapt higher just for a second or two.

Mum gathered up the tea things. "It's only a matter of miles, girls," she said. "It might even be good for you, make other friends, have some different experiences."

What an idea! I was horrified, and I knew Jennifer was too. I couldn't believe Mum would actually suggest that this could be _good for us._ She looked at our shocked faces and backtracked quickly. "Oh, you two will be as close as ever, really. You can text and call each other every day with your new phones!"

I gave Jennifer a tiny smile. "Yeah, we will. And we'll text all the time, and we can send each other loads of photos. And video call every evening."

That weekend Dad drove us to London to get my school things. I have to admit, I was curious – what would wizard shops be like? My school list was full of things I thought only existed in story books and films. A cauldron. Lots of strange-sounding textbooks. A _wand_ , for heaven's sake.

Mum had brought McGonagall's instructions and we walked slowly along Charing Cross Road, looking for a pub called The Leaky Cauldron. As we squeezed past a horde of chattering Japanese tourists, I saw it. It was very obvious as it was sandwiched between a brand-new Marks and Spencer's, and an upmarket Italian restaurant. It was small and dirty and stood out like a sore thumb, its painted sign creaking in the wind.

I stopped walking but Mum, Dad and Jennifer marched right past it.

"It's back here," I shouted and they turned back in surprise, looking at where I was pointing.

"We don't need to go to M&S, love," said Mum. "Or did you want one of their quiches for lunch?"

"Not M&S," I said impatiently, pointing. " _That_."

They stared, right between the two window fronts.

"Juliet, that's an alley full of rubbish bins," said Jennifer, and I realised they honestly couldn't see it at all.

"Okay, that's weird," I said, already disliking the way magic was excluding my sister. "Come on, it's here, trust me." I put my arm round Jennifer's waist and pulled her into the pub, Mum and Dad following. I looked around as we entered, a little creeped out by the dingy, claustrophobic space. It was crowded and a few people looked at us curiously as we came in, checking us out. They were all wearing long coloured robes. I felt suddenly conscious of my jeans and t-shirt, and looked back at my family, but they didn't seem to feel any of the eyes on them. All three appeared to be squeezing past invisible rubbish containers, but they were frowning and looking around as though they could hear the chatter around us. I shook my head and went forward, but hesitated when we reached the bar, unsure where to go next. The instructions mentioned a courtyard...

I caught the eye of the stooped, ancient barman, and he grinned at me. "Muggle family?" he said knowingly. Mum, Dad, and Jennifer all jumped and stared in his direction.

"Through here," he gestured, opening a little door that led into a tiny backyard.

"Thanks," I said gratefully, going through.

"This is really weird," said Jennifer, clearly unnerved.

"Could you hear them?" I asked.

"Yeah, it was like that little alley was full of people...the sound kind of flicked on as soon as you dragged me in."

Interesting. Hopefully they would be able to see this Diagon Alley. It wasn't going to be fun acting as their guide dog all day, otherwise. I took McGonagall's instructions from Mum, and tapped the correct brick, feeling a bit silly – but, seconds later, we were definitely in the right place.

"Wow!" Dad sounded awestruck, and from the way they were all looking around I could tell, with relief, they could see it all. It was, well, mind-blowing. A world away from the London shops just the other side of the wall. Like stepping back into the eighteenth century crossed with all the fairy tales Jennifer and I had read when we were younger. A crooked, cobbled street bustling with strange-looking people in colourful cloaks, traders calling their wares, owls swooping overhead. Shop windows crammed with peculiar magical objects. An apothecary displaying rat brains, bottles of what looked like blood, and sheaves of a scaly, bronzed leather whose label read " _Dragon skin: seven Galleons a square"_ (I was taken aback – dragons?). A broomstick shop, then a violently-coloured, flashy joke shop called Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, a tiny wand shop...

My head span as I tried to take it all in, and Jennifer and I held hands all the way to the great white building at the far end of the street, Gringotts Bank. We'd been told to change our Muggle money there.

Dad smoothed down his hair and suit, then smiled excitedly at us. "A wizard bank! I've been looking forward to this. I wonder how similar it is to mine!"

It transpired that it was not at all similar. The bank Dad managed was a million miles away from this one. It was more like some kind of white marble palace, quiet as a library, and we were served by what could only be a goblin, with pointed ears, a crooked nose, and very shrewd eyes. Dad gulped and spoke in a voice rather higher than usual to the goblin, who gave us a clever, calculating look as he changed several twenty pound notes for huge gold and silver coins and some little bronze coins similar to but much heavier than two pence pieces.

We were all glad to get back out into the sunshine.

It was the strangest day of my life. I was measured for witch's robes, chose a cauldron, filled a bag with disgusting-looking ingredients which were apparently going to be for brewing potions. As instructed in my list of school supplies, I filled a bag with little bottles of ink and old-fashioned feather quills, though they looked silly and cumbersome.

"Do we have to have these?" I asked the witch behind the counter at the quill shop. "I mean, I have lots of normal pens at home."

The witch smiled, as though she'd heard this many times before.

"Muggle-born, I see. No, no, we use quills in the magical world...Hogwarts teachers will confiscate Muggle writing equipment if they see them."

This sounded ridiculously backward to me; but I could see Jennifer stroking a quill wistfully between her fingers, and so I paid hastily and we left the shop to search for a telescope, a set of scales, and a bookshop. Jennifer trailed behind me, saying very little but looking at everything longingly. Every shop we entered marked me as different. I started to feel physically sick the longer we spent there, as I felt Jennifer withdraw further into herself, but after several hours, thank goodness, we only had one thing left to buy: a wand.

We'd walked past the wand shop on our way to Gringotts – a small, dusty looking place – and found our way back to it quite easily. The sign above read "Ollivander's" in faded lettering.

The man who served me was very peculiar. He was evidently very old, with a shock of white hair and very pale eyes. His hands shook constantly, but he pulled out a few wands for me to try, muttering to himself as he did so and peering at me with his silvery eyes. It was unnerving to say the least, but the fourth wand I picked up ("Nine inches, ash and dragon heartstring, quite inflexible") fitted into my palm like it had always been there, and I felt a sudden heat flicker through my fingers. Sparks flew out of the end as I raised it, and Mr Ollivander nodded and smiled as he took it from me and wrapped it up.

"Very good, my dear. And now – how about this for your charming sister? Twin wands for twin girls!" he said. "Also nine inches, the wood taken from the same ash tree, core from a Welsh Green not a Hebridean Black, but close enough -"

I was staring at him, horrified, while he was talking, when finally Mum interrupted with a hasty, "Oh, no - you see –" and Jennifer snapped rudely, "No, I won't be needing a wand. Not today, or ever."

Mr Ollivander stopped in surprise, his hands on the second box. Jennifer's eyes lingered hungrily on it too, before the strange old man collected himself together, realisation dawning in his eyes.

"I see," he whispered, looking at us both very carefully. "Well, now. Well, well, well. I – am so _very_ sorry..."

Jennifer had been trying so hard not to act jealous, that was obvious, and this was just too much. Her head was bowed as we left the shop with my new wand. I put my arm round her shoulders but a stab of pain went through me as she shrugged it off.

"Maybe it's time we went home," sighed Mum, steering us back towards the magical wall.

"Hold on five ticks," said Dad hurriedly. "I just want to get something. Have an ice cream or something and I'll be back in a minute." He waved us into a nearby ice-cream parlour and hurried off.

Mum bought me and Jennifer two huge sundaes, a sure sign she was feeling very sorry for us: her usual 'treat' was yoghurt, dried apricots or an oat bar. Jennifer was still very quiet but rubbed the tears off her cheeks and looked slightly more cheerful as she licked strawberry jam and butterscotch sauce from her spoon.

"I'm so proud of you, Jennifer," said Mum gently. "You're my brave girl."

She stroked Jennifer's hair and looked at me. "You too, Juliet. I know how hard it is for you both."

"You don't," I couldn't help firing back, and Mum looked pained. "But I know it's not your fault," I conceded, feeling a little bad at the look on her face.

Mum sighed. "Well, no. Although in a small way I rather feel that it is."

Jennifer and I looked up in surprise. "What d'you mean?"

Mum hesitated. "Well, you might as well know. I think it might be _my_ ancestry that is responsible for whatever magical gene you've inherited. I had a great-aunt..." She shrugged. "I never knew much about her. My grandfather – her brother – wouldn't talk about her much. I only found out about her when I was looking through some old albums. She was at a family wedding and I'd never seen her in any pictures before. I noticed her because of her clothes – like these people." She gestured at the many witches and wizards in long colourful robes around us.

"I asked Grandfather about her, but he wouldn't tell me much, only that it was his younger sister and she was the black sheep of the family...in those days many working-class women were expected to leave school at fourteen and help with the housework, you see, but apparently she'd gone off to some strange school and did all sorts of things that scandalised the family...he said she was – very peculiar and not like other children. Certainly not like him or my other great-aunt, Kathleen, their elder sister."

"You think she went to Hogwarts?" I said.

"Well – I've been thinking about it, and I think she probably did," said Mum. "When Grandfather died, I met her, you see. Not for long...she came to the funeral, but hung around right at the back during the service. She was wearing long green robes and at the after-service we all lit candles and she had trouble using the matches, I heard her asking someone to show her. She had to be about eighty-five so it makes sense...it must have been three quarters of a century since she'd lit a candle without matches. My other great-aunt was there, of course, Kathleen...but she seemed to be deliberately snubbing her sister. I tried to say hello to her at the end, but she was very nervous...she excused herself and hurried off, but another funny thing was, I watched her go – and I doubt she realised I was looking – a little way away, she turned on her heel and just disappeared into thin air. I thought I was going mad...told myself I'd imagined it. When you got that letter – well – I remembered her, and just wondered. If she was a witch that would explain a lot. Funny, I don't even know her name."

We sat there, digesting the story. It was really quite unpleasant. My great-great-aunt, shunned by her family for being a witch... and generations later Jennifer is passed over completely for being a Muggle, while I was forced to attend a school I had no desire to go to. All to keep the magical community safe from Muggle eyes. It was ridiculous, really. Why couldn't the two live side by side in peace?

My thoughts were interrupted by Dad's return. "Here you are, girls!" he grinned, as he came into the ice-cream parlour, holding up both arms. He was clutching the handles of two cages, each containing a small, sleek owl.

"Dad!" we both yelled. "Are these for us?"

"Of course they are, darlings," said Dad. "I know you can text each other, but your school list says students can bring owls – and I don't want you to be left out if all the others have them just because you're from a Muggle family. And won't it be fun to get letters by owl post? They're twins, of course."

We'd already spotted that. The two identical tawny owls were just beautiful: smaller than the owl who had delivered the Hogwarts letter, they each had glossy brown feathers, and deep, honey-coloured eyes.

"One's a boy and one's a girl," said Dad. "I asked, but I'm afraid they didn't have twin girl owls."

"Dad...they're beautiful," we said together, breathlessly.

Jennifer looked a little overcome. I knew, after seeing me getting kitted out me with all my school equipment that Dad's present meant double to her. I let her choose her owl first. She gazed at them for a while, undecided, her face very close to the cages, and eventually one owl hopped along its perch to peer curiously at her. She stuck her finger in the cage and it nibbled it gently. She laughed. "This one," she said softly, unable to take her eyes off it.

"Let's see...that's the boy," said Dad, checking the label on the cage.

Jennifer stroked the owl's head with the tip of one finger and I picked up the other cage. My owl hopped and hooted at me and I felt a glow of pleasure. We'd never been allowed a pet as both Mum and Dad thought dogs and cats were a hassle, and messy. This whole witch business was changing everything.

"You'll have to think of names for them," said Dad, but Jennifer and I were way ahead of him. We were definitely thinking the same thing. We both loved the Greek myths and the names of a famous pair of twins, a god and a goddess, had sprung to mind immediately.

"Mine's Apollo," said Jennifer, happily, as I nodded my agreement. "And Juliet's is Artemis."

Carrying Apollo and Artemis with utmost care, we headed back through the wall, out of The Leaky Cauldron, and back to Muggle London.


	5. Parting Ways

_September 2018_

Juliet

I woke very early, a lead weight in my stomach, and saw that Jennifer's eyes had opened at the same moment. We looked at each other for a long time, then we both turned away. A lump rose in my throat and for the first time since all this had happened, I cried, silently, until my pillow was sodden. Jennifer's duvet quivered as she sobbed, too.

When Mum came in a couple of hours later, she looked at our red-rimmed, puffy eyes and sighed.

"Oh, you girls..."

But there was nothing she could say, so she didn't even try.

I wasn't ready for this, I never could have been. Jennifer was starting school, too, today, so Dad was driving me to London while Mum would see her off to Greenhill Academy later that morning. We had to say goodbye right now.

Dad had packed the car last night with all of my school stuff, and I couldn't eat a bite of breakfast, so once I'd pulled on my school robes and Mum picked up Artemis' cage, that was it. Time to leave.

Jennifer threw her arms around me and I breathed in her so-familiar sisterly scent, indescribably desolate. Neither of us let go, until after a long time, Mum gently pulled us apart and led me towards the door.

"Text me," whispered Jennifer, silhouetted against the drawn curtains so I couldn't see her face clearly. "Promise you'll text..."

"Of course I will," I said as almost physical pain shot through my chest. "Every day. And on the train, and when I get there tonight...I promise..."

Dad appeared, swallowing the dregs of a bitter black coffee and combing his hair with his other hand, and everything was a blue; somehow we were in the car...I was twisting right round in my seat as he pulled out of our road, squinting up at our window, and Jennifer was framed against the glass, watching us go...I waved forlornly, and Dad turned the corner...we were gone...

I sobbed in the back of the car all the way to London, ignoring Dad's feeble attempts to cheer me up. At one point I reached for my phone to text Jennifer, then realised it was in my bag in the boot of the car and sobbed even harder.

Several hours later I was drifting through King's Cross Station with Dad as in a dream. It was easy enough to get onto the magical platform with McGonagall's instructions – any other time, if I'd been told I had to walk through a solid brick wall I might have found it mentally challenging, but today I just wandered miserably through as I'd been instructed, feeling Jennifer's painful absence by my side. I found myself staring at a long, scarlet steam train and innumerable crowds of wizard families and school children. The noise hurt my head: so much shouting and screaming, clanging train doors, and the screeching of dozens of owls.

Dad was looking at everything in amazement and great interest. It was a pity he wasn't the magical one in our family, as quite obviously he would have been in heaven here. I looked at the train in trepidation, holding back; but it was five minutes to eleven and Dad nudged me towards the nearest door.

"Better get on, darling," he said, and gave me a bear hug. "Send us all a message when you get there, okay? Text Jennifer to let me and Mum know how you're getting on too. And maybe send Artemis over with a proper letter when you've settled in."

I nodded mutely, unable to speak. And before I knew what was happening, I was on the train and Dad was closing the door, blowing me a kiss and waving; the train was pulling away as the whistle blew, long and loud, and I was standing at the window clutching my trunk and Artemis' cage, then we turned the corner and Dad disappeared from view. It was really happening...I was going to be at Hogwarts in just a few hours. Suddenly, for the first time, I wasn't just thinking of Jennifer's absence. My stomach gave a funny lurch. I was going to a _magical school_. I didn't know a thing about magic. What would my classmates be like? What if they hated me for being from a Muggle family? What if I seemed really, really thick to them? Well, I told myself I didn't care what they thought. I didn't want to be here anyway, I was trying not to become different from Jennifer...but still, now I was heading towards the unknown. I felt horribly unprepared.

"Oi, shove along, would you?" said an older boy rudely, as he walked up dragging a huge trunk. "You're blocking the way."

It was true, I was standing in the doorway to the corridor between the carriages, and I flushed, confused. "S-sorry," I stammered, letting him through, and eventually wandered down the train looking for somewhere to sit. A few people glanced up at me as I walked past, checking out their compartments. I really didn't want to have to share with anyone else – I didn't know how to make small talk. Jennifer and I had never needed any other friends. I'd never even thought about it much before. I squeezed past groups of chattering kids, avoiding eye contact, jumping at various bangs and puffs of smoke – they all seemed to have purchased stuff from the Wizarding Wheezes shop in Diagon Alley and were letting it off on the train. A few people made rude remarks as I pushed past, and I annoyed an elder girl by accidentally treading on her foot ("fucking firstie," she hissed), but I just put my head down and hurried on, feeling more and more panicked.

Right at the end of the train, to my enormous relief, I found an empty compartment and slid the doors shut behind me. I breathed easier, now I was alone. After wedging Artemis' cage into the corner of the seat so she didn't rock too much – she'd been squawking indignantly as I'd stumbled and pushed my way along the length of the train – I finally did what I'd been wanting to do ever since I left Dad: pulled out my phone and switched it on.

The screen flickered a bit and I frowned but after a while - Beep! Beep! Beep! It went mad, as Jennifer's texts streamed in - and the flickering settled enough for me to read them. She'd sent more than a dozen! I read them all, and felt the homesickness sweep over me as I heard her voice in my head. She'd told me all about her morning, breakfast, the journey to Greenhill Academy with Mum, her new teachers and her first two classes...her texts were long and full of detail, as though she couldn't bear for me not to know exactly what she was seeing and doing. Another two came through while I was reading. She must be texting in class, under the table...

The last one I opened simply read, " _i miss you_ ".

I quickly tapped back a long answer:

 _miss you too jen. The train is the worst. One girl called me a fucking firstie. wish i was at greenhill with you_.

The reply came quickly:

 _teacher coming, got to go. text later and tell me everything! xx_

I was disappointed. My phone had been in the boot of the car while she was texting, and now she was busy when I wasn't. But that wasn't Jen's fault, and I fired back a reply.

 _of course! everything! i'll tell you all about the school when i get there xx_

The screen flickered again, although it seemed to be working fine. Strange - it was so new. If it got any worse I'd have to get it checked out at a repair shop. I switched it off for now, to save the battery.

Artemis squawked again and I peeked into her cage, realising with surprise that she was hunched right at the back, head pushed miserably into her chest. I'd been in such a hurry to text Jen I'd not really looked at her all journey...

She chirped again, sadly, and suddenly my heart sank as I realised the source of her misery. Poor Artemis, Dad had unthinkingly done the same thing to her when he bought me and Jennifer twin owls...and none of us had even considered that she and Apollo would be miserable being separated, just like we were!

"Oh, Artemis, I'm so sorry!" I whispered, horrified. I stroked her with one finger through the bars of the cage. "I didn't even think...but you'll see Apollo loads, you will, we're going to send each other letters all the time...you'll go there and he'll come here! Every day! It's not so bad, see? I'm much worse off...I won't see Jen until Christmas holidays..."

Artemis stayed at the back of her cage but she did seem to understand. She lifted her head off her chest and nibbled my finger gently, as though to say she didn't blame me. Still, I watched her guiltily for a while.

"Anything off the trolley, dearie?" sang out a voice as my door slid open. A cheerful witch stood there, with a trolley piled high with peculiar-looking sweets and cakes. I was feeling a bit better after my catch up with Jennifer and realised I was starving after waking early and skipping breakfast. Mum had loaded me up with ham sandwiches on wholemeal bread, fruit, and flapjack, but the stuff on the trolley looked pretty cool and the pasties smelt amazing. Dad had given me a bit of pocket money in wizarding coins... Guiltily, glancing at the sandwiches, I bought a large pasty, a frog-shaped chocolate, and a packet of brightly coloured jelly beans. I loved jelly beans.

I tried to feed my abandoned sandwich to Artemis but she clicked her beak at me disapprovingly and eyed my purchases. "Oh, all right then," I said, breaking my pasty in two and pushing the steaming chunk into her cage. It was full of what looked like spicy butternut squash. Artemis settled down to peck at it happily, getting crumbs and sticky flesh all over her beak.

The pasty and the frog-shaped chocolate were both good, but the beans were disgusting. The first two I tried were just weird – edible, but not at all enjoyable; a purple one that tasted strongly of lavender and a white one that was just chewy salt. The third one looked like it was probably chocolate, but I soon spat it out; it was mud – stinking, filthy mud. I pushed the bag away, feeling sick. I wasn't going to eat wizard sweets again in a hurry; why on earth did they make them so revolting? What was wrong with raspberry and lemon? I wished I had brought a bag of jelly babies or dolly mixtures from home...

The rest of the journey was uneventful and with no more texts from Jennifer, just boring. After what seemed like hours and hours – it was just getting dark – the train finally started slowing down. It gradually rolled to a halt with a loud hiss of escaping steam. My stomach lurched again and I peered out of the train windows into the inky-blue night. We were here.


	6. Hogwarts School

_September, 2018._

Juliet

Okay, I'll admit it. Much as I hated Hogwarts already, the place itself was impressive. A huge castle surrounded by mountains, swathes of deep forest, and a massive lake which I and the other first years had to cross in tiny boats. We were guided by an absolutely enormous, frightening-looking man with a tangled black beard. It was an unreal experience. I shared a boat with three others: a boy with mousy hair and two Asian girls. One of them spoke to me when she joined me in the boat:

"Incredible, isn't it?" she said, pointing at the castle. "I've seen pictures of course, but it looks much bigger when you're actually here!"

"Oh – yeah," I mumbled awkwardly. Her smile died away when I didn't say anything else, and she didn't bother introducing herself after that. She and the others all chatted easily as we glided across the water and seemed to me to be best friends already, spreading themselves out over the little wooden seats as though they had forgotten I was there. A sudden loud splash made both girls squeal.

"Ooooooh!" they said as a huge tentacle flipped curiously in the water by our boat, and the boy said enthusiastically, "Must be the Giant Squid! Dad said when he was here he was blown into the lake in a crazy storm during a Quidditch match – oh, he was a Chaser – thought he was drowned for certain, but the Squid saved him, flicked his broom onto the shore after him, too..."

 _"Wow..."_ breathed the girls.

I squashed myself into my corner, faintly embarrassed, feeling like a sack of potatoes someone had dumped there. I had no idea what they were talking about. What on earth was a Chaser, and Quidditch? And surely that wasn't _actually_ a giant squid in the lake?

What with the supposed squid and the surrounding scenery, there was so much to take in as we approached the castle, I forgot about texting Jennifer until we were all inside the castle, and then it was too late. I'd have to message her later: Professor McGonagall appeared and explained about a ceremony we had to go through with something called a Sorting Hat. It would be to find out which school House we'd be in, as, according to McGonagall, our House would be 'like our family' while we were here. Ha. As if.

McGonagall seemed to have heard my quiet snort as she eyed me beadily. "Miss Belstone, your name is one of the first on the list, so I suggest you tie your shoelace and get yourself ready."

I flushed as everyone looked at me, angry at being singled out. She had no right to pick on me. Stubbornly, I ignored my shoelace. McGonagall raised her eyebrows and turned to open the great doors behind her, flicking her wand sharply at my feet as she did so. My shoelace whipped into a tight knot and I jumped in surprise. A few of the kids laughed. I blushed, feeling even more stupid.

But everyone stopped looking at me when we entered the Great Hall. It was enormous. Four long tables filled with students lined the hall, all craning to look at us. Some students waved at what were obviously older brothers or sisters. The teachers were seated at another table, surveying the room.

In front of the student tables was a little wooden stool on which was perched a filthy-looking hat: this thing we apparently all had to put on in front of everyone. Glancing round, I saw my future classmates all looked extremely nervous. I wasn't, not really. Who cared what house I was in? I wasn't sure why it was such a big deal.

Everyone seemed to be watching the hat, which, to my surprise, suddenly burst into song in a stuffy sort of voice.

I watched it, vaguely intrigued, as it warbled a long, rambling song about various Houses with odd names, but didn't really listen carefully. I was taking in the Great Hall, the hundreds of candles, and a group of pearly-white figures drifting around at the other end of the hall. I squinted, but couldn't see them properly...what were they? There also seemed to be no ceiling, the room was open to the sky, which was dotted with stars and veils of light cloud which were slowly moving. I wondered what they did when it rained.

The song came to an end and the Headmistress cleared her throat as she unrolled a long piece of parchment. "I am now going to invite you, one by one, to be Sorted. Once the Sorting is completed we can all enjoy the start-of-year feast, which I'm sure you are all looking forward to. So, let us begin: _Atherton, Mona!_ "

A small girl, trembling all over, walked to the stood and let McGonagall drop the hat onto her head. There was a long pause; nothing happened. Everyone was staring at her expectantly. Was she supposed to do something? But just as I was looking around to see if everyone looked as baffled as I felt, the hat suddenly yelled out:

" _Hufflepuff!_ "

Everyone was clapping, but there was a particularly loud clamour of applause and cheers from one of the tables, over which were hung long yellow banners decorated with badgers, and Mona Atherton hurried to the table and sat down.

" _Belstone, Juliet!"_ Blimey, I was up already, she hadn't been kidding. I came forward to the little stool. McGonagall dropped the hat over my head as soon as I sat down, and I stared into the darkness of the lining, feeling a bit silly, knowing everyone was looking at me. I wished the hat would get on with it. But next moment I jumped, then squirmed as the stuffy voice spoke _inside my head._ I didn't like that at all.

"Not fussed, are you?" said the little voice. "Couldn't care less, could you? Wish I'd get on with, it, do you? Well, I'll let it go...I can see you don't know what the Houses are, or maybe you'd take more of an interest. Let me see _now...plenty_ of brains, though a reluctance, maybe to use them, silly, that...and loyalty, ah yes, and obstinacy too...ah, well...you are almost...but no, on the whole, I think you'd do well in RAVENCLAW!"

The last word was yelled out to the whole room, and I got up, blinking in the light, unsure where to go. One table that was cheering hardest and waving me over, and I made my way uncertainly over there. Over this table hung bright blue banners decorated with fierce-looking eagles. I found a gap in the long bench and sat down.

"Well done!" whispered the girl I'd sat next to, who had a shiny badge pinned to her robes, and the next student came forward to be sorted.

" _Burbage, Octavia!_ " was put into Hufflepuff, while the mousey-haired boy I'd shared the boat with, " _Curdew, James_ ", was pronounced a Gryffindor – to great cheering and foot-stamping from the table adjacent to mine, decorated in red and gold.

" _Delabole, Tamsin,"_ was the first to be sorted into Slytherin house. Their green banners were adorned with writhing silver snakes.

" _Finnigan, Fergus"_ became a Gryffindor...

It took a long time. A few more students joined our table: two girls, Susie Hibbert and Bethany Jones, and a boy, Lucas King. A tall girl with a disdainful expression, Uma Lestrange, was made a Slytherin. The Asian girl who was also in my boat, " _Ling, Tan Pei!",_ went to Hufflepuff..." _Longbottom, Alison_ " became a Gryffindor... " _Mee, Anna!",_ the other Asian girl, joined her friend in Hufflepuff...

My eyelids started to droop and I stopped noticing names, and when a few more students were made Ravenclaws I no longer clapped. I noticed several new students get particularly enthusiastic cheers; they were probably from some well-known magical family. If you didn't know anyone, like me, it got boring quite quickly.

Then I got a real shock. McGonagall, whose voice was getting hoarse, read out _"Scamander, Lorcan!"_ and the blonde-haired kid went to Gryffindor, after a short pause. Next up was _"Scamander, Lysander!"_ , another blonde-haired boy!

I'd been slouching in my seat but now I sat bolt upright and gaped over at the Gryffindor table, where the second boy was headed with a wide grin. I was oblivious to the rest of the Sorting ceremony. Two boys with the same surname? Twins! Identical, and I hadn't noticed them yet. I stared at them, the injustice of it eating into me like red-hot flames.

"You look like you want to join the Gryffindor table," said the Prefect girl next to me, following my furious gaze. "You don't want to do that...noisy, brainless bunch they are, full of themselves too..."

I tore my gaze away from the Gryffindor twins but didn't answer the Prefect, even though I knew that was rude. It was none of her business. I saw her study me appraisingly for a little while before shrugging and looking back at the Sorting. I was still fuming. She clapped hard when McGonagall took the hat off _Weasley_ - _Granger, Hugo_ and a shy-looking boy with very red hair joined the Ravenclaws, glancing over apologetically at the Gryffindor table as he did so. A red-headed older girl, obviously his sister, was looking very disappointed.

"Congratulations, all of you," said McGonagall crisply, as she rejoined the other teachers at the table. "And now, just a few words before we begin our feast: first, as many of you know, Professor Flitwick retired at the end of last year after many years of service to the school. Please welcome Professor Bell to the post of Charms teacher."

Professor Bell – a slender witch with hair pulled back into a practical ponytail, smiled and nodded at the students as they clapped politely.

"Next," continued McGonagall, "A reminder to older students, and a notice to new students, that while you are free to roam most of the Hogwarts grounds in your leisure time, the Forbidden Forest is _strictly_ out of bounds to all of you. I ask you also to observe the nine-thirty curfew and be back in your common rooms after this time each evening. Mr Filch has also kindly reminded me to tell you that all Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes products are still banned from corridors and classrooms and are likely to remain so for the foreseeable future. And now, as your classes start at nine tomorrow, let us begin the feast!"

Food appeared as if by magic – what was I thinking, of course it was by magic – in the many dishes and tureens crowded onto the table. The heady aroma of roasted meats, stuffing and buttered vegetables filled the air, but I was so tired and fed up by now I didn't really think I wanted any food, and I was still watching the Scamander twins jealously. Sat next to each other, carelessly offering each other dishes of roast potatoes and little sausages wrapped in bacon, sharing a joke, talking and laughing...

I thought about texting Jennifer under the table and fingered my phone in my bag, but no, I didn't want any nosy Ravenclaws reading my private messages over my shoulder. I'd wait until I was in bed.

I picked at a piece of chicken and moved some peas around my plate. When the call for bedtime came at last, the food scraps vanished from the golden plates. Students started clattering noisily off to their beds and the Prefect girl called me and the other first years together in her clear, confident voice, then ushered us all along endless corridors and up flight after flight of stairs, finally ascending a spiral staircase up a tower. Wow, this was a long way to go every night for bed.

We finally reached a door and pressed forward, but the Prefect girl didn't try to push it open. Instead she looked expectantly at the door knocker, which was in the shape of a bronze eagle.

As we all looked at it too, the knocker spoke in a silvery sort of voice:

" _Large as Hogwarts, but lighter than air, some wizards would say I am not really there, sun makes me bold and in darkness I die: what, therefore, am I?"_

The Prefect girl smiled and looked at us expectantly. "Any of you get it?"

We gazed dumbly at her. "What are we supposed to do?" asked one of the boys, eventually.

"It's a riddle," said the girl brightly. "We have to answer one each time to get into the tower. It keeps our wits sharp, you see... So – large as Hogwarts, but lighter than air...some people would say it's not there, it thrives in sun but not darkness. Come on, this is an easy one."

I felt exasperated...I just wanted to get to bed and text Jennifer. It was really late, now...she'd be wondering. There was a very long pause as we shuffled our feet and the girl smiled – patronisingly, I thought – and said, "You'll get used to them. They're simple after you've done a few. The answer to _this_ one is –"

"The shadow," piped up the girl next to me, Susie Hibbert, suddenly. "The castle's shadow."

The older girl smiled as the door swung open, revealing a large, airy common room. "Quite right. Dormitories are through that door –" she pointed at a wooden door next to a large white marble statue of a woman "- you first-year girls are the second staircase on the left, boys take the first right. Your things are up there already."

At long last, bed! I was exhausted – but looking forward to sending Jennifer several long texts before going to sleep, telling her everything. We climbed the staircase to a stone-walled room with six four-poster beds with blue hangings, where our trunks were neatly stacked along one wall. We were high, high up – I could hear the wind whistling around the towers...

It took a few minutes for us all to choose the bed we wanted. I ended up by the far wall, next to one of the three windows, whose glass rattled faintly in the wind. The other girls – Susie, who'd solved the riddle, Bethany Jones, and the other three (who I think were called Marion, Ivy and Astrid) - all chattered to each other sociably as they undressed for bed. I felt heat creep into my cheeks as they stripped to their underwear. I didn't think I was a prude, but I wasn't going to get half naked in front of a bunch of girls I'd never seen. And I didn't want to join in their chatter. I wanted to text Jennifer, and soon. I didn't have a watch, but it had to be nearly midnight now.

I pulled the hangings around myself and undressed, sliding under the blue coverlet. Then – finally – I pulled out my phone.

To my irritation, I realised the others were talking about me in whispers.

"What's with her?"

"Unfriendly, isn't she?"

"Ah, no, maybe she's shy..."

"There's shy and there's rude, and she just seems rude." The owner of this voice, whichever of the other five girls, wasn't bothering to keep her voice down. I ignored them. Jennifer wouldn't like them either, stuck-up, prissy things. And that Susie, an irritating clever-clogs.

I switched my phone on again, waiting impatiently for it to wake up.

But when it did, I immediately saw something was wrong. The screen flickered horribly, impossible to read, and I stared in horror as the phone starting vibrating in my hand, letting off a series of awful high-pitched beeps which rose to a whine like an angry mosquito...I shook it, frantically, as the girls' voices stopped in surprise.

"What' _s_ that _awful_ noise?"

A hand yanked back my hangings. The girl I thought was called Ivy, who had extremely long hair, peered in at me, face screwed up.

"Hey!" I said, trying to tug them back, annoyed and embarrassed. "Leave me alone!"

But I was more concerned about my phone: panic was rising up in my chest. What had happened to it? Had my bag got wet in the bottom of the boat?

"Can't you stop that sound?" begged Ivy, hands over her ears. "It's like a horrible insect! What _is_ that thing?"

"It's my mobile, what do you think?" I muttered, pushing it under the cover to deaden the noise, and still frantically pressing all the buttons, trying to get it back to normal.

"Your what?" said Ivy, Bethany and Astrid altogether.

I switched it off and the noise cut out. Maybe if I took the battery out and made sure it was dry inside...I fiddled with it. "My mobile phone," I repeated irritably, when they didn't stop looking at it. "It's literally just a phone, where do you guys live, under a rock?"

This didn't seem to offend any of them, if anything they seemed amused. "Is it a Muggle toy?" said Bethany.

"It's not a _toy_ ," I spat, glaring at her. "You must know what a phone is."

"I know what they are," said Marion, and Susie nodded, too. "Muggles use them. My Mum's half-blood...some of her family have them."

"Well, what's it _for_?"

I wasn't about to explain the purpose of a telephone to these idiots. I was more concerned with getting mine working. Jennifer would be lying awake...

"You won't be able to fix it, you know," said Susie matter-of-factly.

I stopped in the middle of rubbing the battery with my sleeve. "What?"

"Muggle equipment like phones and radios and televisions...they won't work here. The place is saturated with magic. They can't function."

"How d'you know that?" I snapped.

Susie shrugged. "You're not the only one who's been having problems with Muggle technology. A kid on the Gryffindor table, he couldn't get something to work either. A "tablet", I think he called it. It was flickering just like your phone...it's just obvious, magic and technology don't gel."

Her calm logic hit me like a sack of bricks. I looked at my beautiful phone for a long time, like a gutted animal with its battery lying on the coverlet. And then, quite calm, I put it away and pulled my school robes back on.

"What are you doing?" asked Ivy, frowning.

"I need to send a message to my sister. I'm going to find my owl."

"You can't do that!" exclaimed Astrid. "We're not allowed to leave the tower after dark!"

"I don't care."

"You'll get us all in trouble for not stopping you!"

I ignored this. "I promised I'd text her and I can't, so I'm going to send her an owl." I picked up my shoulder bag and tugged a piece of parchment and a quill from my trunk. "Where did they take our owls, do any of you know?"

"They'll be in the Owlery," Susie said, when everyone else shrugged. "But I don't know where it is. Look, don't be silly, you'll get caught. Just send it in the morning."

"I'm sending it now," I said firmly. "I made a promise."

And I walked out of the room, leaving them all sat on their beds looking shocked and put-out. I crept down the stairs...the common room was deserted. I slipped through the main door and stood for a moment in the darkness on the other side. What kind of room would the Owlery be? A tower would make sense, birds would like that, being high up like in a tree...I was just going to have to creep around the castle until I found it. If Artemis flew with a message tonight, maybe she'd reach Jennifer in the early morning, who by now must be lying awake with her phone beside her, wondering if I'd forgotten her in all my exciting new surroundings. The thought made me square my shoulders and tiptoe, as quickly and stealthily as I could, down the spiral staircase.

Hogwarts was very cold at night and eerily quiet. I felt very small. I could imagine the castle lurking on the mountain like a giant bloated toad, and I lost in its great, deep belly. Summoning up all my courage, I crept forward, into the dark corridor.


	7. Professor Vector

_September, 2018._

Juliet

I got lost immediately, of course. Soon I had absolutely no idea how to get back to Ravenclaw Tower. I crept down endless corridors, up innumerable flights of stairs, through heavy wooden doors and great stone archways...and quite soon realised how crazy it was to think I could find the school owls, particularly in the dark. Hogwarts was _enormous..._

Suddenly one of the pearly white figures I'd seen in the Great Hall glided past – bloody hell, it was a ghost of a tubby little monk! I shrank into the shadows, terrified, and he disappeared around the corner without seeing me. No one had warned me that Hogwarts had dead people drifting around. That was not funny at all, that was seriously messed-up. "Wish you were here, Jen..." I mumbled. "This is way too weird."

And what was that whispering? I glanced nervously about me but couldn't see anyone. Yet there was a definite whispering and muttering, as though my progress was being followed by dozens of invisible people (oh heck, it had better not be more ghosts). It took me a while to realise – when a beam of moonlight filtering through a window provided enough light for me to see the walls – that it was the oil paintings all around me. It seemed the pictures could move and speak. Well, that was creepy, but better than dead people, I supposed. Once or twice one of them called after me – "What are you doing wandering around this late?" and "Should be in bed, you know!"

Each time I simply scurried away, until it occurred to me I was maybe missing a trick. Maybe one of them would tell me the way. It was worth a shot, I'd be wandering around till morning otherwise. In the gloom I could barely see the paintings' occupants, so I merely approached the nearest wall and whispered: "Er – excuse me."

"What's that?" mumbled a sleepy voice.

"It's a student, dearie, what else? Go back to sleep now, Erwin." This was a woman's voice, warm and soothing.

"What's she want?" said another voice.

"What's she doing out of bed?" chimed in another, and a fifth cut in, "Term's not even started yet, this is a bad 'un, for sure."

It sounded as though all the people in the surrounding portraits had rushed over to peer at me and comment. I knew I was blushing, even though they couldn't really see me. And I was worried about the chatter of dozens of people, I didn't want to be caught if I could help it.

"I just wondered if you could – could tell me where the school owls live," I said softly.

"Where these ghouls all live? What's she talking about?" said the sleepy voice, and the soothing female voice said, "Shhh, Erwin, dear, not ghouls, the owls. Settle down now."

"Why do you want the Owlery at this time of night, my dear girl? You should be tucked up in bed. Classes start tomorrow, you know!"

"I need to send a letter," I whispered. "It's urgent."

In the dark I heard soft chuckling all around and an amused voice said, "Bless 'em. Always rushing everywhere. Nothing can ever wait...just try being a portrait, nothing like it for settling down one's nerves..."

"It _is_ urgent," I retorted, annoyed. "I wouldn't be here if it wasn't."

"Bless 'em," said the same voice again, infuriatingly, but the soothing woman's voice interrupted, saying kindly, "Go back the way you came and try three floors up...the door to the Owlery is by the statue of Athena...I don't like to go that way or I'd show you, but it's one of Peeves' favourite haunts..."

"Thank you! Thank you so much!" I whispered, wondering vaguely who Peeves was, but soon concentrating only on following her instructions. Twenty minutes later, after more blind stumbling, I found myself, with a thrill of relief, staring at a white marble statue that was visible even through the dark: a goddess in flowing robes, with an owl perched on her outstretched hand. It had to be Athena. I'd made it...I hurried past her to the wooden door behind, and had just taken hold of the handle when a horrible, sly voice said right in my ear: "Going somewhere, dearie?"

I whirled around in fright and found myself confronted by a little floating man, shining brightly in the dark: he was wearing an orange bow tie and violently-coloured clothes and had a wicked grin that stretched from ear to ear like the Cheshire Cat.

"Who – who are you?" I stammered, backing away. "Go away!"

The man cackled and flipped over, eyeing me delightedly: "What for? Tell you what, I won't tell anyone you're out of bed."

"Er – thanks," I said uncertainly.

" _If_ you give Peevsie a show!"

" _What?"_

"Oh, you know...sing a song...dance for old Peeves...jiggle...wiggle your bum..."

"I'm not wiggling my bum!" I said, outraged. "Get lost, you creep."

The little man's eyes gleamed at this, but he didn't move. "Tell you what would be more fun," he added, leaning forward conspiratorially, and beckoning me to come closer.

"What?" I said, suspiciously. The next moment I jumped out of my skin.

"FIIIIIIIIIIIIILCH!"

He bellowed it so loud I yelled too in shock. "Shut up! What are you doing? Stop it!"

He cackled gleefully at this, somersaulted in the air and screeched even louder - " _FIIIIIIIIIIILCH!_ STUDENT OUT OF BEEEEED! TRYING TO SNEAK INTO THE OWLERYYYYY!"

I looked around frantically for somewhere to hide but it was too late – there was a clatter of footsteps and a man with long, bedraggled grey hair appeared from a side door, holding up a lantern and glaring at me with pale, protruding eyes. I shrank back in horror as he bared his teeth at me in a malevolent grin. Soon he had my arm in a firm grip.

"What have we here?" he hissed..."How long have you been creeping around out of bed, you nasty little squirt? Oh, if only my Mrs Norris was still here, my sweet, she'd have sniffed you out in two minutes."

"Please, sir," I stammered – was this hideous wreck of a man a teacher? "I just need to send a letter."

"At this time of night? I think not," he spat, eyeing me suspiciously. "Sneaking around, Miss above-the-rules...you'll get detention for this, be sure of it. Follow me!"

I didn't move, though he yanked my arm with his filthy hand. "I need to send a letter," I said, looking desperately at the Owlery door. I was so close. "Please – let me send it first – then I'll come – "

"Shut up, you horrible little girl, or you'll make it worse for yourself – you're not sending anything tonight –"

"I NEED TO SEND IT!" I yelled, panic overtaking me. If I didn't, Jennifer really would think I'd forgotten her – she'd wake in the morning to no owl – I saw her scrolling through her unanswered texts, for there were bound to be many, feeling hurt and betrayed, and my own stomach lurched in panic at the thought. " _I NEED TO WRITE TO JENNIFER!_ "

Wrenching my arm out of Filch's clutches, I threw open the Owlery door, which sent Filch smashing to the floor with a strangled cry. I ran up the stairs two at a time, until I reached a high-ceilinged moonlit room with numerous windows through which were swooping simply hundreds of owls, hunting for food. The whooshing of a thousand wings above made me feel dizzy. I had no chance of spotting Artemis in this, and I could already hear a groaning and shuffling below; Filch would be up here soon.

"Artemis! ARTEMIS!" I shouted, not caring who heard, now. "Please come, please, I need you!"

It seemed impossible she would come, from this whirlwind of owls – but suddenly she was there, swooping through a window and down to my shoulder. "Thank goodness," I sobbed, throwing open my bag and grabbing at the quill and parchment inside. Just the quickest note – all I had time for before Filch reached me – I would just have to make do with "Phone dead, everything went wrong, will explain as soon as I can!"

But as I started to scratch the first word, nothing happened. For a brief second I stared at my quill before it hit me: I hadn't brought any ink. I'd never used a feather to write before so I'd forgotten. It was useless. All at once I was filled with a sinking despair and I sank down, sobbing hopelessly, the horrors of the night catching up with me. Lost in the bowels of Hogwarts in the dark...the ghost...the talking paintings...Filch, and that awful Peeves...and after all that, no ink...I was a wreck.

Suddenly there was the sound of sharp footsteps marching up the stairs and next moment, McGonagall's furious voice:

"What on _earth_ do you think you are doing?"

I didn't move. I was exhausted.

" _Lumos,_ " said McGonagall loudly, and a bright light hit my face. "Miss Belstone!" she said, clearly shocked. "It is two in the morning and you are in a _very_ different tower from the one you should be! And I have just sent Mr Filch to the hospital wing with a gash to his forehead. _Explain yourself_."

But I just gulped and sniffed, not at all in control of myself. I'd be embarrassed later but I'd never had a worse day in my life. I drew a shuddering breath. I meant to explain but somehow it all got lost as I looked up at her and all I said was: "Please, Miss...do you have any ink?"

McGonagall looked down at me for a long moment, then said, in a very slightly gentler voice: "Come with me, Miss Belstone. _Don't_ argue." She raised her wand and I flinched, but she simply murmured a spell, and something silver flashed out of the end and darted away.

Minutes later I was following McGonagall numbly to her office: up a moving spiral staircase high into yet another tower, and into a circular room, many candles lighting up the portrait-covered walls. There was already someone in the room: a thin witch with short silver hair and spectacles, looking curiously at me as McGonagall led me in.

"Good evening, Headmistress, I got your message," she said. "What is the matter?"

"Thank you for coming, Septima," said McGonagall, pushing me down into a chair where I sagged, too tired and miserable even to argue. "I'm sorry to spring something like this on you before term has even begun, but as the new Head of Ravenclaw House I felt you should be present at this conversation. This child - Juliet Belstone - is one of your new girls and I found her just now up in the Owlery, with Mr Filch sprawled at the foot of the stairs with a nasty head wound."

"Please, Miss," I said, looking up at them both. "I just wanted to send a letter to my sister."

"We do not send letters at such ridiculous hours!" said McGonagall. "I had expressly said just hours before that it is forbidden to wander around at night, and you have just flagrantly flouted this rule. I'm astonished you thought this could possibly be acceptable."

"My phone didn't work," I mumbled. McGonagall ignored this.

"Now, I am not going to give you detention," she said crisply, "as we have not yet started the new term. But, Miss Belstone, listen carefully: if I catch you wandering the school again at night, you will be in very deep trouble. You will visit Mr Filch in the hospital wing tomorrow and apologise in person. Professor Vector –" she nodded towards the silver-haired witch, who had been listening silently, head cocked to one side "– will make sure you do so. And I shall be writing to your parents about your disgraceful behaviour."

I lifted my head. "You'll write to them? Now?"

McGonagall gave me a knowing look, and I waited, tentatively. Her lips twitched, just slightly. "I will add a postscript to your sister to explain about your phone. Septima – please escort Miss Belstone back to Ravenclaw Tower."

And the silver-haired witch led me from the room as relief filled me. At least, by morning, Jennifer would know I'd tried to reach her, that something had gone wrong.

"You seem a very determined young lady," Professor Vector commented, as I followed her and her lit wand through the corridors. "Unusually determined...tell me, are you in the habit of attacking caretakers when they get in your way? Just so I know what to expect...I'll be ready to defend myself..."

I flushed. "That was an accident. I –"

But she was smiling kindly at me, and I saw she didn't mean it. It seemed to be the first truly open, friendly face I had seen all day, and in my ragged state of nervous exhaustion I almost cried again. Unlike everyone else, she didn't ask a single question, didn't pry: and it was this more than anything else that made me suddenly want her very much to understand.

"I'm a twin," I told her softly, as we tiptoed up a sweeping staircase. "But my sister...Jennifer...she isn't a witch. Today was the first day we've spent apart, ever. I – I really miss her."

Professor Vector looked at me with her wise old face, and I saw real sympathy in her eyes. She waited for me to go on.

"I promised I'd send her a message when I got here but I couldn't," I whispered. "She would have been so hurt...if I hadn't..."

"I see," was all Professor Vector said, but I could tell she really did see. I fell silent. After a while, she spoke again as we climbed the final staircase together.

"Juliet, I am a teacher of Arithmancy...it is the complex art, which involves studying the magical properties of numbers...many find it dry, but those who have the true understanding will find much is illuminated for them. As a twin I see you as one of the anomalies in my discipline – you are both one, and two! Both powerfully magical numbers, in their different ways. My dear girl: you and your sister are one by birth, and nothing can ever change that, time and distance are mere irrelevancies. But remember: you and she are, also, _fundamentally_ : two. Not two halves of a whole...but two wholes, from two halves. Just something to think about, when you are a little less sleep-deprived."

I tried to digest her words as we went up the last few stairs and reached the eagle door knocker, which said in its silvery voice: " _Some it was, so went away: who is left?"_

I was ready to drop: not another dreadful riddle. But Professor Vector was smiling at the doorknob. "Oh, she was listening, was she?"

"Oh, please, Professor, can't you do it?"

"Some it was," said Vector, looking closely at me. "So went away. Who is left, when so leaves some?"

A few seconds passed before it clicked in my tired brain and I whispered, frowning: "me".

"Good girl..."

The door swung open...Vector had silently vanished. Minutes later I was at last back in bed, tucked under my blue coverlet: the other girls' snores faded quickly as I sank, effortlessly, into a deep and dreamless sleep.


	8. Herbology, Charms and Potions

_September, 2018._

Juliet

The next day I was red-eyed and disorientated from lack of sleep. The other girls in my dormitory were gone when I woke, late, judging from the cold morning light outside. I threw on my school robes, dragged a brush through my hair and hurried out of the tower. I was already wondering about Jennifer: had she got McGonagall's letter? She should know today, at least, that I had done my best to contact her. I would write her a long letter at lunchtime, definitely.

When I reached the Great Hall, it was to see the last of the breakfast – scraps of bacon, yellow pools of egg yolk, uneaten toast crusts and blobs of strawberry jam – disappear magically from the plates and dishes on the table. I had missed it.

My stomach gave a loud grumble. In a bad mood, I turned to leave and jumped. One of the ghosts had drifted silently up behind me.

"What are you doing here, young lady? Classes started five minutes ago!"

I backed away instinctively, freaked out. It was man straight from Elizabethan times, judging by his clothes and large ruff.

"Leave me alone!" I said, repulsed. All I could think was, this man was _dead_.

The ghost looked very offended. "There's no need for that tone of voice," he said, and drifted away.

I hunted in my bag for my timetable. Right - my first lesson was Herbology, shared with the Gryffindor students. Under "location" it just said Greenhouse One.

Oh no...remembering my late-night wanderings looking for the Owlery, I imagined a similar experience searching all over the grounds for the greenhouses. I looked around, but the hall was empty - no students, no teachers. Would I get into serious trouble if I was found out of class? Would they believe me, after last night?

Oh, flip. There was only one person I could ask. In desperation I called after the ghost's retreating back.

"Um – mister ghost – you couldn't tell me where Greenhouse One is, could you?"

The ghost stopped and turned around rather slowly. Even at this distance I could tell he was still miffed. I walked up to him, embarrassed. "Um, sorry," I said when I reached him, trying not to freak out too much. "I just – I didn't sleep much last night, and then I missed breakfast. Sorry," I repeated, lamely.

The ghost's features relaxed into a gracious smile. "Well, then, apology accepted. A little politeness goes a long way, you know. Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington at your service, Miss...?"

"Juliet."

"A pleasure to meet you. And now I believe you were looking for Greenhouse One...?"

He gave me some detailed directions and waved me off. Maybe the ghosts weren't _too_ bad, after all - although this one's head kept wobbling, which was kind of weird.

When I entered Greenhouse One, everyone turned to stare at me. The teacher broke off his welcome speech. I blushed. "Sorry, I couldn't find the greenhouse," I mumbled.

The teacher – a youngish, fair-haired man with hands covered in earth and what appeared to be a wriggling plant in a front pocket of his robes - didn't seem bothered at all. In fact, he just grinned at me, and simply said, "Well, hello, there, you must be Juliet Belstone. I missed you on the register. I'm Professor Longbottom. Always hard to find your way round on the first day, isn't it! I used to get lost all the time – still do, occasionally..."

The knot of worry in my stomach eased a little. This teacher, at least, was nice. Professor Longbottom smiled at us all and drew our attention to the pots of spiny, purplish plants in the middle of the room. They had a dry, papery look to their many leaves and large ugly flowers the colour of a bruise.

"Moondew plants!" said Professor Longbottom enthusiastically. "Now, can anyone tell me anything about these?"

Predictably, Susie spoke first. "Moondew juice is used in Potions, isn't it? It's a vital ingredient in, um – love potions."

A few people giggled and Susie went pink.

"It is indeed," agreed Professor Longbottom. "But we aren't making any of those today! Excellent answer, though, one point to Ravenclaw. Moondew is indeed a key ingredient of love potions, but is also used in several other widely-used potions, and for that reason we have it here in the Hogwarts greenhouses. Now, it grows wild in Scotland but is a wee bit tricky to cultivate as it needs rather a lot of help to grow...anyone know why?"

No one answered, even Susie. I was secretly pleased she didn't know everything.

"Moondew needs to shed its skin regularly as it grows, like a snake," explained Professor Longbottom, running his finger down one plant's papery leaves, which rustled. "In the wild, it has a rather wonderful symbiotic relationship with the Mooncalves, also found in abundance in the Scottish Highlands as they love the vast, empty moors and forests...Mooncalves feed at night on the skins, which are very nutritious, which in turn allows the Moondew to thrive."

He pinched the paper skin at the base of one of the plants' leaves and gave it a tug; it peeled off with a satisfying tearing sound, exposing the glistening, glossy purple flesh below. "But we haven't any Mooncalves in the Hogwarts greenhouses, so we need to skin each leaf ourselves by hand, which is what we'll be doing today. In a few weeks they'll be large enough to cut up and juice! So, if you could divide into pairs and take one pot between two of you..."

There was a flurry as everyone quickly found people to partner up with. I was immediately thrown into a quiet panic – and stood, awkwardly, unsure how to approach anyone. The other five Ravenclaw girls quickly paired up, either with each other or with Ravenclaw boys or Gryffindor students. Predictably, I was left standing by myself at the end, feeling a complete twit.

"Oh, we're odd numbers today!" Professor Longbottom came over. "Ah – well, we'll have one set of three, why don't you go with Lorcan and Lysander here?" He gestured at two Gryffindor students nearest to me, who I realised with a jolt were the blond-haired Scamander twins.

"No," I said instantly, not caring if it sounded rude. Everyone looked shocked and the twins looked at me, then each other, with identical blond eyebrows raised. I didn't explain myself.

"Well, now," said Professor Longbottom, looking flustered. "Maybe it's better if you join some girls, yes, you'd prefer that, wouldn't you, how about Astrid and Ivy?"

I walked over to Astrid and Ivy's table silently, trying to ignore the looks on their faces, of resignation and annoyance at being lumbered with me.

Gradually the atmosphere relaxed and everyone started chattering, as we all spent the next forty-five minutes skinning the Moondew plants, which I secretly found quite enjoyable. There was something very satisfying about tearing the papery dead skin off the new, glistening purple skin below, and seeing the plant slowly transform into a healthy-looking specimen.

Astrid and Ivy just talked to each other for a while, over my head, but eventually Ivy asked, evidently curious: "So did you find the Owlery last night, Juliet?"

I wrestled with myself, torn between wanting to keep my business private and being, pathetically, a little glad someone was making an effort with me. Eventually I just said, without looking up, "Yeah, I found it."

"And so you sent your letter." It was a statement, not a question, so I didn't correct her.

"You could have got us into terrible trouble, you know," said Astrid prissily.

"Well, I didn't, did I?" I returned, annoyed.

"You were just lucky you didn't get caught!" Ivy sniffed.

I glanced up. "I did get caught."

They both stopped skinning and looked at me in surprise. "You did?"

"I injured Professor Filch and got a mouthful from McGonagall," I said, enjoying myself a little now at the looks on both their faces. "Then Professor Vector personally escorted me back to bed."

Astrid snorted. "Filch isn't a _Professor_. He's the caretaker. Duh." She exchanged another look with Ivy, as though she figured I was making up or exaggerating the whole thing. My stomach growled and burbled loudly.

"Is that _you_ making that noise?" said Ivy, her little snub nose turned upwards – like a piglet, I thought.

"I didn't have any breakfast," I said curtly, the implication clear. _Because no one woke me up._

"Sorry, Juliet," said a voice contritely behind me. It was Marion, with her too-innocent blue eyes and straight, shoulder-length brown hair. "We knew you'd gone to bed late so I said not to wake you up, when we went down for breakfast. I didn't realise you would oversleep so much."

I merely shrugged. "Well, it doesn't matter," I said, ungraciously, and Marion turned back to her table, looking put out.

When the lesson ended, I made my way back to the castle, head down, thinking about Jennifer.

"Hey! Belstone!"

"Ow, get off!" Someone had grabbed my arm. I shook them off, spinning round angrily.

Behind me were the Gryffindor twins, Lorcan and Lysander Scamander; blonde hair tousled, looking down at me (they were both quite tall) with identical frowns. I glared. Who did they think they were? Why would I have anything to say to either of them. I turned, determined to march away.

"Don't go! What was all that about in there, Belstone?" one of them said, moving to block me.

"Get out of my way," I said shortly, feeling hot anger bubble up inside me.

"Do you have a problem with us? Because if you do, we'd like to hear it."

I folded my arms and stood still. "I _said_ , get out of my way."

"What have we done to you?" said the second twin. "We've never seen you before. You're looking as though we murdered your cat. We haven't murdered your cat, honest," he added quickly, as I glared at him.

"I don't have a cat," I spat.

"Well, then."

They waited for an explanation and I felt a hot flush rising to my cheeks. I knew it was stupid. I knew they hadn't done it personally to affront me. But I couldn't forgive it, these two twin brothers standing there smugly, with no idea – not a clue – how fortunate they were.

"Some people," I said, breathing heavily, "some people get all the luck. That's all."

And I shoved past them, into the castle.

"Merlin," I heard one of them say. "What's up with her?"

I fumed all the way to Charms, but the lesson was interesting enough for me to push the matter to the back of my mind. The teacher, Professor Bell, told us she was starting her teaching career after twenty years playing then coaching Quidditch for the Montrose Magpies. Several students seemed to know her from this already, and it made her popular with them. She went on to teach us simple wand movements and got us to repeat a few incantations without wands, correcting our intonation and enunciation, before allowing us to practise a simple levitation charm on a feather. I battled with myself for the second time that day.

I had told myself I wasn't going to try, that learning magic would only set me further apart from Jennifer. But making things fly...magically...with a sweep of the wand, as Professor Bell had shown us, making the blackboard eraser whizz around the room knocking off people's hats, was – well, it was pretty cool. Deep down, I knew I wanted to give it a go. Just to see if I _could_.

And so, with immense feelings of guilt which I tried to quash, I tried the spell, over and over, concentrating harder each time I failed, listening to Professor Bell when she corrected my wand grip and wrist movement as she moved among the class, working on my intonation and timing, and at last, at the end of the lesson, was rewarded: the feather gave a sudden wiggle and jerked a foot into the air as though tugged by an invisible string. A rush of pleasure filled my chest. I had done it! I looked around. Susie's feather was high in the air – obviously – but everyone else's was still on their desks, and the small red-haired Ravenclaw boy, Hugo Granger-Weasley, seemed to have exploded his: he was covered in little white feathery strands.

"Excellent, you two," beamed Professor Bell, and gave Susie and me five points each for Ravenclaw house. I tried not to feel too pleased with myself, but somehow I couldn't help it. I'd done an actual spell, with my wand! That most of the others hadn't even though they were from magical families! I found myself wondering what else they would teach me – what other magical things I could learn to do, at this place...

I told myself Jennifer would understand. It wasn't as though we'd agreed I'd not learn anything, after all...

Anyway, the important thing was I could finally write to her! It was lunchtime, and, starving after my lack of breakfast, I grabbed a roll and some ham and cheese from the Great Hall. I made a rough sandwich and ate it it as I hurried up towards the Owlery, now fairly confident of the way.

"Miss Belstone!"

I looked around. Professor Vector was right behind me, her spectacles right at the end of her nose as she looked at me with her knowing grey eyes.

"Oh, hello, Professor..." I said, swallowing a large mouthful of bread and ham.

"You've forgotten something," she said gently, her gaze flicking towards the floor by the Owlery door where the caretaker Filch had sprawled last night. Oh, damn. The apology McGonagall insisted I make today. My shoulders slumped. Yet again, when I needed to write to Jennifer...

"I know you're in a hurry, my dear girl," said Vector, "But I'd get it over with, if I were you. The Headmistress insists you visit Mr Filch this lunchtime in the hospital wing, and if you write your letter first you'll only have to cut it short. Perhaps it would be best to wait until this evening."

I looked longing at the Owlery door, but knew she was right. I didn't want to send a short letter to Jennifer, that would only hurt her feelings even more.

"All right," I said reluctantly, turning my back. "I'll write to her this evening. Could you show me where the hospital wing is, please?"

The apology was excruciating. Madame Pomfrey, the elderly witch in charge of the hospital wing, had mended the wound to Filch's forehead easily enough and he was simply in for bed rest. But he didn't make it easy for me as I awkwardly left a bunch of flowers (Vector had produced these for me with a flick of her wand) at his bedside and mumbled an apology. After he had glared and snarled and called me a dozen names from "slime-faced ratbag" to "snotty-nosed assassin", a vein close to bursting in his temple, Madame Pomfrey declared I had done enough apologising and rushed over to administer a sedative.

The afternoon's lesson took my mind off the unpleasant experience, however: double Potions (shared with the Hufflepuffs) with a short-haired, brisk witch who introduced herself as Potions Mistress, Professor Bunce. She reminded me strongly of my P.E. teacher at primary school who was an ex-army troglodyte who shouted all the time.

After a run-though of basic safety procedures, and fundamental preparation and brewing techniques, Professor Bunce announced we'd be trying a beginner's potion today. "Although," she added, her grey eyes sweeping over our nervous faces, "I never expect much from the first attempt. Follow the instructions and you should not explode your cauldron, however. _Precision!_ That's what Potions is about. Now..." She began to rattle out instructions for a Dizziness Draught, scratching out the main points on the blackboard. I noticed several of my classmates giving each other panicked looks.

Professor Bunce marched up and down our rows of cauldrons, checking our progress as we feverishly chopped ingredients, fed our fires, tried to follow where we were in our books, and stirred to stop the bubbling concoctions from sticking. I was just about keeping up and was peering over my cauldron to check if, after adding a scoop of glittery beetle eyes to the steaming mix, the colour was changing from bluish-grey to green, when –

 _BANG_.

Mona Atherton, the trembling girl who was first to be Sorted yesterday, somehow shattered her cauldron and its entire contents right next to me. I was showered in the hot, treacly liquid as everyone screamed and pushed their chairs away, and as I jumped to my feet I felt the blood rush from my head...my head span and the classroom whirled...more half-brewed Dizziness Draught trickled down my face as I stumbled about in panic. White flashes obscured my vision as I heard, as if from a great distance, Professor Bunce barking angrily at Mona...but it was too late...everything went white as my head whirled and I was falling, falling...

When I woke up in the hospital wing, Madame Pomfrey was leaning over me.

"How long have I been asleep?" I asked groggily, as she came swimming into focus. I still felt very strange.

"Since yesterday afternoon," Madame Pomfrey informed me briskly. "I kept you unconscious overnight. I couldn't do much to reverse the potion, it needed time to wear off."

"Overnight? It's - it's tomorrow morning?"

"It's this morning, yes..."

"No!"

I sat bolt upright in horror, then groaned and sank back into my pillows as my head whirled. I felt nauseous and disorientated, but most of all sickeningly guilty.

I hadn't written to Jennifer at all yesterday! I buried my face in my hands and for the second time in two days I dissolved into tears: this time, tears of guilt and shame (and I'd never been a cry baby. I was finding out I wasn't as strong by myself as I was side by side with my sister). Hogwarts...it was Hogwarts again. It was as though the castle was deliberately pulling me away from my twin, coming between us in a great and terrible stone barrier.

It took some persuasion before Madame Pomfrey allowed me parchment, quill and ink ("you need rest!") but at last she relented, and I wrote a long, long letter, nearly two days later than promised. The hot weight of guilt never left my chest the whole time. I tried to explain: about my midnight escapade, and getting caught, and lessons, and having to apologise to Filch at lunchtime, and the accident in Potions class. But I knew it sounded feeble. I knew I could have tried harder. I could have got up early and written before breakfast yesterday, instead of oversleeping... I just hoped Jennifer would understand. I asked dozens of questions about Greenhill Academy to make up for my slackness, and when it was written I begged Madame Pomfrey to be allowed up to the Owlery.

"Certainly not!" said Madame Pomfrey, shocked. "You'll have vertigo for hours yet, that girl's potion was ridiculously strong. Goodness knows how many poppy petals she put into it, and she must have had the fire _far_ too hot, too. Climbing a tower is the very last thing you should be doing, you'll drop like a stone."

"Oh, but..."

"No arguments," said Madame Pomfrey firmly. "And you'll need to drink one cup of this Balancing Brew every half hour. I'm going up to the Owlery later this morning, however, to send a message myself – I can take your letter for you, if you wish?"

I nearly hugged her. "Oh, yes please – thank you so much, Madame Pomfrey! My owl is a little tawny one, answers to Artemis, she'll take it." I pressed the scroll of parchment gratefully into the elderly witch's hand.

I was off lessons all day, feeling steadier with every cup of the Balancing Brew, and quietly relieved when I saw Madame Pomfrey slip out to visit the Owlery that morning, my letter finally on its way. I ate the trays of food brought to me for lunch and dinner quietly, passing the time by alternately sleeping and reading _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade One_ , which we had used for the levitation spell yesterday. It was quite incredible...considering it was only a beginners' book, there was an astonishing medley of spells, hexes, jinxes and charms.

As I read, I realised something. I definitely wanted to learn the lot. It wouldn't really achieve anything, after all, trying to remain a - what was the word? - "Muggle". But I wanted – no, _needed_ \- Jennifer with me. I couldn't really believe she didn't have a spark of magic in her somewhere, whatever McGonagall said. I knew how identical twins came about, Mum and Dad explained it to us years ago. We were once the exact same tiny baby inside Mum, before we split into two, and I was going to help Jennifer find her magical powers and become a witch too, if it was the last thing I did.

I just had to find out _how_.


	9. Letters and Lies

_September-December, 2018._

Juliet

For the next few weeks I became an apparently model student. I had discovered the Hogwarts Library and spent all my spare time there. I would get lunch, or any homework, quickly out of the way, and then devote the rest of my time to the idea which was consuming me like fire: how to help Jennifer become a witch. I pored through countless musty old tomes on the hunt for clues, anything at all. The gaunt librarian, Madame Pince, ushered me out each evening when dusk fell outside, tiny bats flitting past the castle windows.

The reply I had received from Jennifer to my belated first letter had spurred me on to even greater efforts: it had been brief, terse even. It simply said this:

 _Hi Juliet,_

 _Thanks for the update at last._ _Sounds like your school is fun._

 _Jennifer_

Clearly, she was upset with me. It was unfair – she had ignored my explanations about why I hadn't written, and everything rotten and awful I had described about my first two days at the school. She'd honed in on my brief descriptions of the Herbology and Charms lessons, which I had mentioned were interesting, and twisted those few words to imply that I was having a whale of a time. Still, I knew she had reason to be mad at me, so I simply made sure I sent a letter faithfully every morning before breakfast, getting up early especially to do so. I didn't have to climb up to the Owlery any more: my loyal Artemis started appearing at the dormitory window at sunrise, beating the window gently with her wings until I let her in and gave her the letter to take back down south.

Gradually Jennifer seemed to grudgingly forgive me and Apollo flew back with a return letter every evening, evolving from brief replies to normal, chatty epistles asking lots of questions about Hogwarts. The regular communication settled me: I still missed my sister, still felt the empty space next to me like a raw wound, but I felt happier linked by the tight invisible thread of owls flying swiftly between us through each day and night.

I told Jennifer of my search through the Hogwarts library books, of course, and she became as eager as me to find an answer. " _Have you found anything?_ " her letters begged. " _Is there a spell to bring out hidden magic in people? Have your researched magic-boosting potions?"_

The trouble was that the library really didn't seem to have much on the subject of where magic came from or how to create it, only how to use it when you had it. Also there was the problem of where to look; there were thousands of books, and I didn't dare ask Madame Pince for help as I didn't want the teachers finding out what I was looking for. Perhaps I was too scared they say it wasn't possible.

After weeks of fruitless searching, I eventually came across something of interest in, oddly enough, the Muggle Studies section, which I had been browsing in case there was any information about Muggles who had tried to learn magic. Tucked in between the heavier books about Muggle government, daily life without magic, and Muggle careers, there was a slim leather-bound volume all about Muggle religions. The book described Christianity, Hinduism, Islam and a few other major religions in a basic fashion, with some definite mistakes (which even I could pick up just from my R.E. lessons in primary school). However, despite this I became absorbed in a short chapter covering so-called 'earth religions': paganism, Wicca, and the people who called themselves druids.

I turned the page in the half-light of early evening, frowning. I'd heard of druids, of course, the strange pagan people who worshipped nature and dressed all in green leafy clothes...or something like that. I'd never given them much thought, to be honest, and read here with great interest that these Muggle followers of Wicca would supposedly gather - _to practise magic and witchcraft_. I'd have scoffed at that just a couple of months ago, before my Hogwarts letter, but now I read the chapter with growing absorption. The book said Wiccans believed in earth magic, ancient magic...surely if earth magic was tosh the book would make that immediately obvious? Maybe it was tongue-in-cheek, but it was hard to tell...and after all...if _I_ was magic – if there were witches and wizards all over the country – couldn't it also be possible that groups of Muggles across the world had also found ways to use witchcraft?

The more I thought about it, the more the idea consumed me. _What if the Wiccans were Muggles who knew how to do real magic? What if they could help Jennifer?_ Annoying, there was nothing else in that section about this, but I could ask Jennifer to look up more information online.

Brimming with suppressed excitement, I wanted to write to Jennifer right away, but knew it would have to wait till morning: Artemis needed to sleep. I woke extra early the next day, while the other girls snored in their four-poster beds; my letter ready in my hand as I sat by the window waiting impatiently for Artemis to turn up. When she finally did, I fed her an owl treat more hurriedly than usual, ignoring her reproachful chirp, then eagerly nudged her on her way with the following:

 _Jen, I'm onto something! Quickly, look up druids and Wicca online – what do you think? Could their magic be genuine? Shall we see if they can help us? Juliet xxx_

Her reply came that evening:

 _Cool, Juliet! I've looked it up and there's HUNDREDS of Muggles all over the country doing magical rites and stuff! They even publish books with the spells in and how to do them. I would've thought it was all rubbish a few months ago, but I would've thought that if someone had told me about Hogwarts, too. What if no one takes these Wiccan Muggles seriously and that is their disguise? What if they are doing ACTUAL magic?_

Yes, yes, that was the thing! And if that was the case, then what was to stop Jennifer finding a source of magic inside her, as they had? And if they could teach her...this could be our breakthrough! Jennifer could be at Hogwarts later this year! I scribbled back my answer, my insides starting to writhe with excitement now that we were on the same wavelength:

 _Exactly! But – how do we get in touch with a bunch of druids and Wiccans?!_

Jen replied, cool and matter-of-fact:

 _Stonehenge, 2018 Winter Solstice, 21_ _st_ _December. There'll be literally thousands of them there that night and you'll be back for the Christmas holidays. It's the perfect time. We have to get there! The only problem is Mum and Dad, obviously._

Yeah...I briefly imagined asking Mum and Dad if we could spend the night celebrating the Winter Solstice at Stonehenge and mentally laughed in my own face. They weren't massively overprotective but, being realistic: we were eleven years old. Stonehenge was a long way from Devon. And with thousands of people turning up, it was probably quite rowdy. Well, there was nothing for it: we'd just have to come up with a believable story. I truly hated lying to Mum and Dad, but what other choice did we have?

 _How about I say I've been asked to visit a friend from Hogwarts who lives near Stonehenge for a few days before Christmas and that you're invited too?_ (I suggested in my next letter.) _Mum and Dad will be thrilled to hear I have a friend and you're able to meet them._

Jennifer thought this was a brilliant idea, and so, trying to dismiss my guilt at telling Mum and Dad a great fat lie, I sent them a few letters over the autumn term in which I mentioned my new best chum Susie Hibbert (they responded enthusiastically, which made me feel worse – everyone here had formed little friendship cliques from which I was obviously excluded, and this had worried Mum and Dad a lot). As December rolled in, I steeled myself and wrote to them again, to say I and Jennifer were both invited to Susie's house in Salisbury from December twenty-first to the twenty-second, and could we please go?

Their reply was even better than hoped. It would have been a massive pain getting to Salisbury by ourselves – several buses, and a long train journey – but Mum and Dad's reply, brought by Apollo along with Jennifer's nightly letter, made things much easier; even though I squirmed guiltily when I read it.

 _Juliet darling,_

 _How wonderful that Susie has invited you to stay, and how kind of her to invite Jennifer as well! Of course you can go, it will be lovely for you to have a little time away together after a term apart, and for Jen to experience how witches and wizards live. Please tell Susie thank you from us both._

 _We don't want to pack you both off on the train, it'll be a horrible journey just before Christmas, the trains will be crowded_ _and there are always delays. I'll write to Anna and Dave in Guildford and see if they'd like a pre-Christmas visit. We can drop you off at Susie's house in Salisbury on our way there and pick you up on our way back, if the dates work for them!_

 _Much love,_

 _Mum and Dad_

Well, that was pretty much perfect, if Mum's sister Anna and her husband Dave were free for a visit. We just needed somewhere to really stay, now, and a way to stop Mum and Dad trying to drop us off at Susie Hibbert's non-existent house in Salisbury.

Happily, Aunt Anna and Uncle Dave replied to Mum and Dad to say they'd love a visit, and Jennifer solved the first problem:

 _Juliet, I've booked a family room at a big travel hotel just outside Salisbury for two nights, online. I didn't dare book a twin room in a B &B – they'd never allow us in without parents so we're going to have to pretend we're all staying. I reckon a large, busy hotel chain won't be as personal, we can pretend Mum and Dad have sent us ahead to check in...I don't think they'll check on us. _

_I had to use Dad's debit card to make the reservation! (Terrifying...but I managed to borrow it while he was in the shower, so he has no idea.) We can use our savings and pay in cash when we get there. I don't think it'll show on Dad's account, they just need a credit card to guarantee the booking apparently._

After Jennifer had researched caf _é_ s in Salisbury town centre online, I sorted the second problem in my next letter to Mum and Dad.

 _That's amazing, Susie is really pleased!_ _There's no need to drop us at her house, she wants us all to go for a Christmas hot chocolate at a place she knows in Salisbury and says could we meet her there – her parents will pick us all up and take us back afterwards. It's called the Busy Bee Café._

I was feeling worse and worse about the number of lies I was telling to make this whole trip plausible. But Mum and Dad swallowed this one too, and our plans were set. We just had to be careful not to let anything slip...

The rest of the school term flew by in a whirl of lessons and letters, as Jennifer and I continued to look up everything we could about Wiccan magic, which seemed fascinating – some of the more powerful stuff involved full-on rituals with herbs and magic pools under the light of the full moon, and there were definitely complex initiation ceremonies and rites. Perhaps the initiation ceremonies were where people discovered their hidden magical powers?

I couldn't stop imagining the Spring term when if all went well, Jennifer would be joining me at Hogwarts! I would help her to catch up and then we would have the best fun...I couldn't wait till she was here with me.

My lessons were all interesting and it was so exciting discovering my new abilities. Transfiguration was terribly difficult, but rewarding (I had successfully turned a slug into a rubber recently, my proudest achievement so far). Charms was always fun and easily my favourite class, I enjoyed Herbology and even Potions: I was learning to keep pace with Professor Bunce's rapid instructions, and my resulting efforts were pretty good. Plus, we had flying lessons once a week which were quite difficult – I'd fallen off several times on takeoff – but pretty cool once you had got your balance.

I hadn't been too pleased to find History of Magic taught by a ghost, Professor Binns: I wasn't really over my fear of the ghosts yet, particularly as they were in the habit of suddenly popping through walls. Binns looked as though he'd died sometime in the Victorian era, and whenever I looked at him I shuddered: all I could imagine was his dead, crumpled body. History of Magic aside, though, the classes were pretty fascinating.

But I badly craved Jennifer's company. I didn't talk to anyone much, here. The five other Ravenclaw girls always chatted to each other as though I wasn't in the room. I didn't care now though. Jennifer could be here by January and things would be back to how they always were.

And at long last, it was the start of the holidays, my bag was packed, the dormitory vacated, and I was speeding home on the Hogwarts Express, the castle disappearing behind a swirl of thick December mist.

My heart beat painfully in my chest as I gazed out of the train window at the pale, mist-wreathed December sun.

The Winter Solstice was in six days.


	10. Solstice at Stonehenge

_December, 2018._

Jennifer

The air was heavy with the scent of coffee and cinnamon, gingerbread and toffee, and it was hard to hear Mum over the bustle of baristas, sputtering of the espresso machine and the hiss of the steaming milk. "Are you _sure_ you don't want me to wait until Susie gets here? It would be nice to meet her...and I don't like leaving you here..."

We were all standing in the packed Busy Bee Cafe in Salisbury, Wiltshire. Mum and Dad had both come inside with us despite Juliet's protestations that there was no need. Of course, there was no Susie.

Glancing at me, Juliet pulled out her phone and I cottoned on instantly. Mum and Dad would have no idea that magical families didn't use mobiles.

"No, it's okay, Mum," Juliet said breezily, peering at the screen and pretending to swipe down my inbox. "I've just had a text from Susie. She says she missed her bus but she's on her way. I don't want to make you late for Aunt Anna and Uncle Dave. Jennifer and I can read and have a drink until she gets here."

But both Mum and Dad looked unconvinced, and behind their backs I quickly pulled my phone out too, unlocked it, tapped Contacts, and touched Juliet's name. I slipped it back into my pocket as Juliet's phone rang.

Juliet answered my call, saying chirpily, "Susie! Hi! Yes, I got your text, thanks – how did you manage to miss your bus, silly...we're in the Busy Bee, yeah...yeah...Jennifer can't wait to meet you...Oh, that's cool...great, sounds good..." and warbled on cheerily, whilst motioning to Mum and Dad to go. They were always good about not listening in on our private phone conversations, and after sharing a quick glance, Dad patted Juliet on the shoulder and Mum hugged me then they left, mouthing, " _Be good!"_

Juliet hung up as soon as they left and grinned at me. "I was hoping you'd do that," she said.

"Twin minds think alike!" I answered and we both giggled. That was something we used to say as kids. Since Juliet got back six days ago we had been inseparable, chattering nonstop and staying up late every night, talking...soon it seemed as though I knew Hogwarts as well as my sister did, and I was as familiar with the girls in her House and the students in her classes as she was. I didn't tell her quite everything about Greenhill Academy, but that didn't matter. I didn't want her to worry.

And this Christmas, here we were in Salisbury, the day of the Winter Solstice. Both of us were in high spirits, nervous but excited. Everything was meticulously planned. We both moved towards the counter to order hot chocolates, having reckoned it was a good idea to stay in the cafe for a short while in case Mum and Dad didn't drive off immediately and saw us exit, Susie-less.

We squeezed around a table tucked away in a cosy corner, and drank our hot chocolates slowly, relaxing a little now we were alone.

"So, the hotel is actually a bus ride out of the town centre," I said, recapping our plans. "We check in, drop our overnight stuff there, then get the bus back into town and then there's a shuttle bus to Stonehenge for the Solstice. Then we need to find this Zephyr guy."

"At the foot of the seventh stone," Juliet reminded me.

"Yep, that's the one."

We had spent a lot of time this Christmas holiday on a forum in an amazing website we had found after much trawling online, moonfiremagic dot com. Moonfire Magic seemed to be a hidden hub for practising pagans, druids and Wiccans, and some of the things we had read on there made our breath catch in our throats. The more we dug the more we revealed of this secretive community, glimpsing photos of mystical-looking rituals, and we had even found a few pictures of Muggle druids using actual wands!

Eventually we had summoned up the courage to post on the forum ourselves, under the fake names SilverStar and MidnightMoon. Juliet, as SilverStar, explained we would be at Stonehenge for the Solstice and asked if anyone would be there who could help me to become fully initiated into the magical druid world. Our request was eagerly passed on and became a hot topic; within two days it had reached the person many online druids insisted was the one we were looking for: Zephyr, a great leader in this mystical world. Now, he was expecting us. We were to meet him at the seventh stone at nine o'clock on December twenty-first.

Now, I looked into Juliet's blue eyes and saw my own hope and eagerness reflected there.

But first we had to get our hotel sorted for the night. We downed the last dregs of our hot chocolate and made our way to the bus stop, checking our rather meagre pool of savings as we waited.

"Forty-three pounds and fifty pence," I muttered, calculating quickly. "The hotel room is thirty. That leaves us just over thirteen quid for buses and food this weekend. We'll have to be really careful..."

We had saved up every penny of our pocket money for the last two months and added them to the two ten pound notes we'd been given from Aunt Anna and Uncle Dave last time they visited, to give ourselves the means to get away this weekend. It was barely enough.

Soon the bus was pulling up outside the grubby-looking outskirts of Salisbury which contrasted sharply with its quaint, well-heeled centre, and we found ourselves standing outside a huge brick-and-concrete building with the well-known budget hotel name stamped across the top.

"We can do this," Juliet murmured encouragingly, squeezing my hand. "Are you ready?"

"Ready," I said, and we made our way to the hotel lobby. Worried that we wouldn't be allowed to check in without an adult present, even for a family room, we had put together the best plan we could. It wasn't watertight, but hopefully it would work.

It was late afternoon by now, which we thought would be a busy time (when the hotel staff would be rushed and impatient, less likely to check us carefully), and sure enough there was a steady trickle of guests filtering in. We joined the queue for the desk, trying our best to look nonchalant. But when we reached the front I swallowed nervously; the receptionist was a tall woman with iron-grey hair and a face as stern and shrewd as McGonagall's. She took us both in with a glance and her eyes flicked behind us, clearly looking for our parents.

"Hello," Juliet said quickly, drawing her gaze back to us. "We have a family room booked. The name is Belstone." And she confidently put a ten and a twenty pound note on the desk. We had figured this would be the best approach, saving any complicated explanations for later if necessary. After all, perhaps she would just give us the key...

But sadly, she didn't. There was a long pause, then the receptionist asked mildly, not touching the money. "Are you on your own, girls?"

Expecting this, we both laughed immediately, as though this was a surprising question.

"No, of course not," I said, smiling my most innocent smile. "Mum and Dad are unloading the car. We've got loads of luggage."

"They sent us ahead to check us in," Juliet added, and we both waited, on tenterhooks. The receptionist looked at us, lips pursed.

I swallowed. No key seemed forthcoming. "Um, Dad wanted us to check in quickly so we can get going, we've got a table booked for dinner," I said, trying to look innocent.

"We usually prefer the mother or father to check in a family," the receptionist said at last. "You'd better go and get them, girls."

We were both trying very hard not to give ourselves away with a nervous glance at each other. We had planned for this scenario but had very much hoped it wasn't going to happen.

Juliet took a deep breath. "Oh, okay!" she said brightly. "Hang on, Jennifer. I'll go and get Dad. Won't be a mo'."

I leaned firmly on the counter, elbows out, keeping our place at the front, rather than allowing the next person – an impatient-looking businessman – to come up to the desk. I knew I couldn't hold back the queue for long, and even when Juliet came back in just a minute later, the businessman was pressing forward. Juliet stepped smartly in front of him, saying loudly, "Hey, excuse me, _we_ were first." In true British fashion he stepped back again, though his lips were pressed tightly together in frustration.

"Sorry," Juliet said to the receptionist. "Dad sent me back in here. Look, Mum's gone over the road to get some toiletries she forgot and he hasn't finished getting all our stuff out of the car. He doesn't want to leave it all over the floor while he comes in here, or put it all back in again just to check in. He said he's made the reservation and he's given us the cash to pay so what's the problem, please?"

The receptionist frowned and tutted.

"I'm just passing on the message," Juliet said, shrugging, as I nudged the thirty pounds across the counter.

"Come on, love!" shouted a voice near the back of the queue. "We're all waiting."

"Yeah, give 'em the bloomin' key, what's the bloomin' problem," chimed in another voice.

"Want us all to be here until Christmas?" another added irritably, and the receptionist sighed and – to our immense relief – picked up the cash and slid us the key.

"Very well. Room Ninety-Two," she said, and I took the key with a casual, "Thanks very much," as the businessman pushed forward, and commanded her attention.

We scampered upstairs, hearts pounding, and let ourselves in to the large, bleak-looking room with a furtive look over our shoulder.

"That was a close one," I said as we dropped our overnight bags on the floor and collapsed onto the largest bed with sighs of relief.

Juliet rubbed her face vigorously. "This is all a lot harder than I was hoping."

Then we looked at each other and started giggling for no reason – nerves, perhaps, and relief. We rolled around on the bed for a while, laughing until tears came to our eyes. This was difficult and daunting, but actually, it was _fun_. At last we calmed down, wiping our wet eyes. I gave a large hiccup, and grinned at my twin.

"I'm so glad you're back, Juliet," I said, and spontaneously we gave each other a sisterly hug, burying our faces in each other's long, dark, familiar hair.

"Well then," I said eventually, glancing outside. Dusk had fallen and in a couple of hours we would be meeting Zephyr. We had to get going.

We slunk out of the hotel behind a large group of guests.

Soon we'd hopped on the bus back into Salisbury, and then onto the next – packed – shuttle bus to Stonehenge, gripping each others' hands tightly. My goodness...this was it. This was really it. As the night set in Salisbury suddenly seemed a very different place to earlier; strange people were drifting all around, and Juliet and I tried not to gape too openly at the other passengers during the ten-minute ride to the famous stone circle. Many were dressed very oddly, for Muggles at least, in flowing robes or long dresses in shades of rich earth-brown and leaf-green. Several had what appeared to be trailing plants entwined in their long tangled hair and one man was wearing actual antlers. They were knocked slightly askew on the bus ceiling when he got on.

But Salisbury and the bus were nothing – _nothing_ – in comparison to Stonehenge itself.

When the bus pulled up in the car park and we spilled out with the other passengers, we stood for a while, stupefied. I had never seen so many people in my life in one place. Thousands – there must have been at least ten thousand – of people thronged so thickly around the ancient circle that only the tops of the great stones were visible. And the noise was unbelievable...everyone laughing, shouting, singing, whooping...

I stumbled and fell to one knee in the mud as a tall man in a thick cloak with a magnificent beard that fell to his patchwork leather shoes walked into me, and Juliet had to dart to one side to avoid being stampeded by a group of raucously singing people marching past...

"Come on!" Juliet yelled, yanking me upright. "Get to the stones!"

We fought our way through the crowds, here and there glimpsing quite astonishing sights. A woman with long, flowing hair dyed fiery red raised her arms to the sky as she chanted some strange song...a group of young men, stripped naked to the waist despite the freezing December air and light drizzle, dancing in a circle, their only clothing peculiar hairy leggings...someone spinning ropes blazing with fire that whirled and spat sparks. The atmosphere was electric.

At last we reached the standing stones and I caught my breath. They were huge, and eerily beautiful. Dad had told me once that they came from some remote mountains hundreds of miles away in Wales, the reason and method behind their transportation lost in the mists of time. This evening, the Winter Solstice, was one of the most sacred days for the Neolithic people who erected the circle of stones.

Juliet rested her hand on the nearest rock and I saw her eyes widen slightly. "Can you hear it?" she said? "It's like it's humming – really far away humming."

I touched the rock too, and frowned, wondering what I was supposed to be hearing, and how on earth Juliet thought she could hear anything like that with all the noise around us.

"You know," said Juliet, running her hand down the stone in awe, "for the first time I – I reckon I understand what McGonagall meant when she said magic always leaves a trace. There's some deep, really old magic in these stones. I can feel it."

Well, the stones were incredible, but to me they felt just like any other plain old rock. We needed to find Zephyr, but which the seventh stone was, I had absolutely no idea, now that we were here. They stood in a circle, so without knowing the first stone it was pretty much impossible to know which the seventh was. I peered at the people three stones away, who seemed to be gathered more purposefully than the rest of the crowds around, who were just drifting aimlessly. Someone had built a small fire near the base of the stone, whose flames were oddly bluish. Beside the fire, a gaggle of people were gathered around a tall man who was talking to them, his arms thrown open wide.

I nudged Juliet, breaking her out of her trance. She looked away from the stones and back at me. "Look!" I said, pointing at the tall man. "Do you think that's him? Zephyr?"

"Yeah, could be," Juliet said, after squinting at them for a while. "Let's go and see, shall we?"

We approached cautiously until we could see him more clearly; the leather jerkin he wore under his moss-coloured cloak, his tangled hair and beard which reached his waist. His nose was bulbous, and mottled red, and his eyes glittered in the dancing firelight. The people around the fireside were looking up at him with what seemed to be reverence. To my excitement I spotted the wand tucked into his belt: a long slim strip of wood with a carved handle patterned with leaves. It was this more than anything that gave me the courage to press forward, holding Juliet's hand tightly.

" _Teach us, Zephyr! Show us the path!"_ Came cries from the fireside, and the man Zephyr raised his hands higher towards the sky and seemed about to speak, when his gaze fell upon us (mostly because upon reaching him I had timidly tugged his sleeve; up to that point he had seemed oblivious to our presence).

"Who're you kids?" he said, bluntly. His eyes seemed to focus on my right shoulder, rather than my face.

He really was tall; gazing up, I felt my courage drain out of me. He had no idea who we were. I seemed to have lost the ability to speak, and stood there, frozen, glued to the spot.

Finally I heard Juliet speak up next to me.

"Please, um...Zephyr?" she croaked. "You told us to meet you here tonight. That you could help my sister – um, MidnightMoon?"

A couple of seconds ticked by which felt like minutes, and then his expression cleared.

"Of course, of course, my dear friends!" he cried and the atmosphere relaxed, his followers curious now. "Brothers, sisters –" addressing the group by the fire "— these girls have come to us tonight for the Ceremony!"

"Just my sister," Juliet added quickly, nudging me forward. Zephyr clasped my hands in his own, whose fingernails, I could see even in the firelight, were long and ingrained with earth.

"Yes, indeed, your sister," he boomed. "She has come to me to learn to unlock the powers within!"

The group called out their approval and one of the members threw something onto the fire, which crackled and turned the flames blue again. An acrid smell drifted up my nose and I coughed.

A cloud drifted away and suddenly we were all bathed in moonlight as well as the flickering blue flames...the scene was incredibly eerie. Someone was playing a mournful tune nearby on what sounded like wooden pan pipes.

Zephyr tugged an earthenware bottle from his pocket and gulped down a couple of mouthfuls, then thrust the bottle at me. "To begin, drink this!"

Hesitantly I took it and sniffed the contents, blinking at the fumes which hit my eyes. It smelled like sour fruit. "What is it?" I asked. I didn't like this. Something felt vaguely wrong, but I couldn't say what it was.

Zephyr chuckled. "A magic brew I whipped up myself. You want to find the magic within yourself? Then drink, drink...it will help to release your powers."

I looked at Juliet for guidance and she nodded encouragingly at me. _The magic within myself_ , I thought, and my heart beat painfully. Yes, I did want that: so much. I took a huge gulp and came up coughing and spluttering. The thin liquid tasted of berries – but it burnt like fire all the way down my throat. I felt my eyes watering.

To my discomfort I heard low chuckles all around and suddenly Zephyr pushed me none too gently to the ground, tilting the bottle to my lips again. I flinched away automatically, but he took my chin and trickled more into my mouth. I swallowed, gasping, and felt my head starting to spin. Was it working? Was the potion releasing my magic?

In a slight haze, I thought I noticed Zephyr take another quick swig himself before tucking the bottle back into his belt.

"First – we comb the hair! A woman's power is in her locks!" said Zephyr's voice from above, and one of the group, a young woman with hair in a long plait, came forward with a white comb that looked as though it was made of bone. She smiled down at me. The followers swayed and chanted as the young woman drew the comb repeatedly through my hair – I tried not to wince when it hit a knot.

My head was spinning even more and I felt as though I was floating. Meanwhile Zephyr was stamping in a circle around me, singing a weird song which seemed to have no real words but sounded like a cross between a howling wolf and a dog which was being kicked. Every now and then he took a pinch of some little dried leaves from a leather pouch and sprinkled them into the fire. And every now and then he took out his bottle, and forced me to take another swig. Everything around me was starting to look faintly blurred and anxiously I searched in the crowd for Juliet; blinking, I saw a wild-looking boy in his late teens, with dark curling hair, tugging at her elbow. He was tucking another earthenware bottle into her hand: the others around the fire all seemed to be drinking from the same little bottles.

"Have some too!" the curly-haired lad yelled. "Then you can help!"

"How will it help?" Juliet shouted back, clutching the bottle as he danced away.

"You'll see!" He laughed at her. "Just try it!"

I saw Juliet bite her lip then take a gulp of the magic brew. Immediately she choked and gasped just as I had... The flickering light thrown on the group by the fire was suddenly making everything look strange to me, and I shut my eyes. I was starting to feel sick and oddly disconnected, released from my physical body. But it made sense that I should find my hidden powers more easily in this detached state. Didn't it? I tried to follow that thought again, to check if it was logical – but couldn't hold onto it somehow, it floated away like a soap bubble.

When I half-opened my eyes again I flinched and tried to shuffle backwards. Zephyr was crouched right in front of me and he caught hold of my shoulder, grinning at me as he smeared a muddy paste onto my face and muttering weird words. His eyes looked unfocused and he smelled awful, like something left outside to rot. My head hurt even more and I felt scared; the feeling I'd had earlier, that something was wrong, intensified. I wanted to get away; but suddenly Zephyr gave a triumphant whoop and yanked me to my feet.

To my horror he poured the rest of his earthenware bottle over my head – I felt the cold, sticky liquid soak through my hair and trickle down my face, my neck, and I moaned and tried to pull away. But Zephyr's grip on my wrist was like iron. He pulled the wand from his belt and pointing it at the sky as he capered wildly, leading me by the hand to stumble after him. "Dance, dance!" he burbled. "Seek the power within on this most sacred of nights!"

The followers were still clapping and chanting, as Zephyr spun me around. This was so wrong; we needed to leave, but I was dancing, stumbling, spinning against my will...I glimpsed Juliet's face in a blur, looking as suddenly panicked and horrified as I felt.

"Stop!" she yelled, pushing forward, and I willed for her to rescue me. " _Stop!_ "

Juliet reached me, fingertips outstretched, just as Zephyr whirled me around again, with another warbling cry of "Dance!" – and let go. I sailed past his stupid grinning face as I twirled once with the momentum: then fell almost gracefully to the ground, feeling like a puppet whose strings have been cut, and my hand tumbled into the edge of the blue fire.

A terrible, searing pain: then I heard myself scream like a wounded hare, jerking my hand from the flames.


	11. Reprisals

_December, 2018._

Juliet

"Jennifer! Jennifer!" I screamed, throwing myself to the wet earth beside my sister and clutching her tightly to me. She was sobbing now, her burnt hand curled close to her chest.

" _WHAT DID YOU DO TO HER?"_ I yelled, looking furiously up at Zephyr and his followers – but they were gone. Vanished into the crowds like a bunch of scared rabbits. I stared wildly about, seething with anger and shock, but there was no sign of any of them.

I spat a string of foul names into the oblivious backs of the crowd, before Jennifer lurched in my arms and vomited copiously onto the grass.

My head was still spinning horribly and I don't really know how I did it; but somehow I led Jennifer away from the mad throng, and onto the shuttle bus back into Salisbury. Back in the town, I half-carried her onto a bench outside a convenience store wrapped in both our coats for extra warmth: she was shivering uncontrollably. I told her shakily to wait while I found something in the store to treat her hand. After staggering about in the cold December night air for a while I was starting to think straight again, although I felt quite nauseous.

Two minutes later I was back with a small tub of burn cream, which I had slipped from the shelf into my pocket when I realised we only had twenty pence left in our purse. I had pretended to inspect a couple of packets of crisps before strolling out as nonchalantly as possible, knowing I was flushing. I had never shoplifted a thing in my life, and ushered Jennifer up of the bench and to the bus stop with many a quick glance behind, terrified the owner would clock the theft and come running after me. But the street remained quiet and still. At last the bus arrived, lit by warm yellow lights, and Jennifer and I got on. The bus driver looked us up and down, taking in our bedraggled appearance and our age. Luckily, Jennifer's face – still streaked with tears and the berry drink – was shadowed by her coat hood.

"You girlies by yourselves?" he queried, as he stamped our return tickets – and held onto them despite my outstretched hand.

"We're on our way back to our parents now," I said quickly.

"Oh, all right then, love," said the driver, and handed over the ticket. "Glad to hear that."

We climbed to the privacy of the upper deck, and the bus sped on its way. Jennifer recovered a little on the journey as I inspected the damage to her hand. To my relief it wasn't too bad – three fingers and half her palm were red and blistering, but I had thought it was going to be worse. Very gently I rubbed in the burn ointment, lots of it. The white cream felt cool and soothing on my own fingers. Jennifer winced, but said softly, "Thanks, Juliet."

She wasn't shaking so violently anymore and she seemed a little calmer as we leaned together on the upper deck of the bus. After several minutes of not speaking, she heaved a deep sigh. "We've been idiots," she whispered, sounding bitter.

"I know," I mumbled. "I'm so sorry, Jen. I should have known it was just stupid, crazy Muggle stuff."

Jennifer stared down at her burned hand, greasy with cream, cradled in her lap. "You know what...I think I did all along. I just - I just wanted to be with you at Hogwarts so much."

When she said this, I realised I felt the same; perhaps I had, really, known all along this wasn't the real thing. In my desperation, I had just convinced myself.

"And your poor hand..." Gently, I touched her blistered fingers with mine; smooth and unharmed. "It'll scar. We did what Gavin Hooker tried to do six years ago with that match. Now we're...we're not exactly the same."

Jennifer smiled just a little sadly, but then shook her head. "It doesn't matter, Juliet. Who cares if people can tell us apart in future. What matters goes much deeper than _that."_

Slowly, the bus rolled up to our stop. The bus driver peered out, looking for our parents, so I forced a smile as we stepped off the bus and waved into the darkness, shouting "Hey Mum! Hey Dad!" as I marched confidently away, Jennifer following more slowly. Soon I heard the bus rumble away behind me and two minutes later we were outside the hotel. It was still drizzling. Jennifer took off the extra coat I had made her wear to help alleviate the shock, and wrapped it round me. "You'll freeze," she said simply, and refused to take it back. We hung around for a few minutes, hoping to slip in behind a group of other guests as we had done on our way out earlier. But it was so late, now, and everything was dead quiet: the hotel squatted before us, still and silent.

Eventually I peered into the lobby. There was a different person now at the desk, a small man with straw-coloured hair, not the suspicious woman receptionist from the afternoon.

"Come on," I murmured to Jennifer. "Let's just slip quietly up to our room. Act confident."

I smiled politely at the new receptionist as we walked past him to the door to the rooms.

"Evening..." he said, watching us.

I didn't linger. "Good evening!" I replied brightly, pulling Jennifer through the door. But as the door shut behind me I saw the man reach for something on the desk. My stomach fluttered a little in panic but he didn't come after us, and we carried on hurrying up the stairs to the first floor...

Where the stern-faced receptionist was waiting at the top, phone in one hand and her eyes boring into mine.

"Yes, thank you, Nick, it's them," she said into the phone, and hung up, as we stared up at her, Jennifer's hood falling back. Oh heck. Under the artificial white glare of the hotel lighting my sister looked even worse that I had realised. Her eyes were red and puffy and her face was pale apart from the strange purple stains that trickled down from her sticky, matted hair over which Zephyr had poured the last of the bottle's contents. The receptionist's sharp eyes took in her blistered hand and she sniffed. I realised then how strongly we both smelled of berry fumes – and Jennifer, a little, of vomit.

"Downstairs, you two," said the receptionist with the kind of quiet authority nobody argues with. Soon we were back in the lobby, huddled on the brown leather sofa, in silent resignation. We'd been found out. There were no lies that would get us out of this: she had waited for our parents to turn up earlier, had checked that they had not, and left instructions with the next shift to inform her if and when we showed up again.

I refused to explain Jennifer's burned hand to this stranger, or what we had been doing, but I had no choice but to give her Mum and Dad's mobile numbers when she informed us she would be dropping us at the police station otherwise. Clearly, she thought we had run away from home.

I couldn't bear to listen to the conversation she had with Dad, who picked up on the third try, seventy miles away in Guildford. She had probably woken him up: it was past midnight.

Just an hour later Mum and Dad walked into the lobby, looking angrier than I had ever seen them. Mum was actually shaking with fury and shock. Dad pulled us both roughly towards the door as he muttered his thanks to the receptionist. We allowed ourselves to be manhandled into the car. Neither of them spoke a word until we were speeding along the main road, and then finally Mum said in a tight, clipped voice.

"You'd better explain yourselves very, _very_ well, you two. Let's hear it."

I felt numb. How could I possibly explain it...they would never understand. Eventually I choked, "I – we – oh, Mum, Dad, we're so sorry!"

At this, Dad finally exploded. "SORRY? _SORRY?_ IT'S TWO IN THE MORNING! WE HAVE JUST PICKED YOU UP FROM A GODAWFUL HOTEL WHEN YOU TOLD US YOU WERE STAYING WITH A FRIEND FROM SCHOOL! YOU'VE BEEN LYING TO US THROUGH YOUR TEETH FOR WEEKS, THE PAIR OF YOU! WE DON'T BLOODY _CARE_ IF YOU'RE SORRY!"

Dad had never sworn at us before. Tears sprang to my eyes and I felt Jennifer's shoulder quietly shake with sobs beside me.

"Jennifer looks as though she's been attacked, you don't look much better, now _what – on – earth – were you two up to_?" Dad wasn't driving very carefully; he was so angry he nearly went through a red light, swore again, and hit the brakes so hard we were all thrown forwards in our seats.

"We went to the Solstice," I blurted out at last. "We – oh, but it was so stupid, and it went completely wrong, please don't be angry, Dad, please..."

The mention of the Solstice knocked them both completely flat for a second. Then they both twisted round in their seats to look at us.

"The Winter Solstice at Stonehenge?" Mum said, looking from me to Jennifer and back again. "Are you crazy, Juliet? What on _earth_ possessed you?"

The traffic light turned green, but Dad didn't move forward. "And _what happened to Jennifer?_ "

"She – she burnt her hand by accident – there was a ceremony that got kind of out of hand..."

"I can see that," said Mum icily. "And I can smell the booze on you a mile off. Sloe gin, and a lot of it. I would _never_ have believed that my two girls would do this."

It was the disappointment behind her anger which finally did it.

"We thought," I mumbled, "that someone there knew how to make Jennifer into a witch."

Mum and Dad both went very quiet and I saw them exchange looks.

"But," I continued, the disappointment and shock of the evening, which had been burning in the pit of my stomach all evening, suddenly rising up into my throat and making it hard to speak, "they didn't. They didn't know anything. It was all fake magic." I finished the sentence in a croak, on the edge of tears again.

A car pulled up behind us, still stationary at the green light, and the driver loudly honked his horn.

Dad muttered something under his breath and drove on. I could see him watching Jennifer in his rear view mirror, huddled completely silently in the back. He turned suddenly off the road and I realised we were pulling into a local hospital.

"We'll get Jennifer's hand checked here before we go home," was all he said.

We didn't get home until five in the morning.

The rest of the holidays were pretty much ruined. Mum and Dad stopped our pocket money for two months, and we were grounded the whole time. Christmas Day itself had never been so strained. Though Mum and Dad tried to put the matter aside for that day and have a normal Christmas, Jennifer and I, still recovering from the disappointment of having our high hopes dashed, felt listless and uninterested in festive food and games.

The only good thing was that Jennifer's hand was indeed not too bad. She would always have a shiny, jagged-edged scar across her palm but the hospital dressing came off after a few days and it healed quickly and cleanly.

A week later, after one last, fierce hug with my sister, I was stepping onto the Hogwarts Express, feeling the crushing disappointment overwhelm me again. I had let myself truly believe that this term, Jennifer would be getting on the train with me.

As the train sped off I pressed my face to the glass. Jennifer's pale, disappointed face stood out clearly from the crowd and Artemis and Apollo hooted forlornly to each other – desperately, we waved - and then the train chugged around the corner and I was speeding northwards again. All alone...


	12. Tara

**A/N: Time to see things from Jennifer's P.O.V., now... enjoy!**

* * *

 _January, 2019_

Jennifer

Yesterday the Hogwarts Express whisked Juliet far away for a second term, and I found myself facing the thing I had been dreading for the whole of the Christmas holidays: going back to Greenhill Academy. For several glorious weeks I'd convinced myself that we would find the answer at Stonehenge; that I would discover my magical powers and join Juliet at her school.

I longed to be with Juliet - _like_ Juliet! There were days when I was consumed with envy, however hard I tried not to be. I knew Juliet was unhappy at Hogwarts without me, and I knew she missed me like crazy and hadn't made friends there. I also knew she was scared of the ghosts and didn't feel at home in the castle, which she always described as huge and creepy. But still, she was _there_ ; in the school I felt I knew intimately from her letters. A magnificent castle on a mountainside, surrounded by lakes and forests inhabited by magical creatures, delicious food that appeared magically on tables, the high-up Owlery where Artemis lived, _flying_ lessons, and a four-poster bed in a tall tower with an enchanted doorknob to get past! It was like something from the fairy-tales we'd read as small children, and letters weren't enough...I wanted to see it, touch it, learn magic there myself. However homesick she felt, Juliet loved her lessons, I knew that, and she was soaking up new magical skills like a sponge.

I felt such an idiot after the Winter Solstice – how I could have thought such a load of tarot-card loving, incense-sniffing, sloe-gin-slugging Muggles in fancy dress were the real thing, I don't know, except that I was blinded by desire. I was determined not to be so stupid again.

I knew how horrified and guilty Juliet felt about the whole affair, and I'd stayed close to her all the Christmas holidays, pretending I was fine about returning to Greenhill Academy. But now with the added tang of disappointment, it was harder than all the pretence of the previous term.

I hadn't been totally honest with Juliet, you see. In my many letters I'd never let on what life at Greenhill was really like...I had told her everything about my teachers, the school itself, what I was doing in class (Maths! Geography! As if anyone cared about those when you could be learning Charms and Transfiguration). I wanted to tell her, so badly, as I'd told her everything before, but I knew I couldn't, or she would want to quit Hogwarts and come back to protect me. And I couldn't let that happen...

Juliet knew I'd not made any friends. As we were each the only friend the other had ever needed, she hadn't seen it as a problem; as I hadn't either, not really, I suppose. But I hadn't told her about Them.

They had made my life a misery from day one. Two years older than me, four Year Nine kids already bored with school and looking for entertainment. Withdrawn, quiet, lost without my twin sister and unable to find my footing in Greenhill Academy, I was an easy target. Most of the Greenhill kids took no notice of me, I was invisible to them. But They noticed me. I was someone they could easily have fun with.

It had started with little things. Chewing gum in my hair. Paper pellets pinged at me, and legs stuck out to trip me in the corridors. It grew with time and confidence. A note stealthily pinned to the back of my jumper proclaiming that I was 'up for everything', which I found, horrified, after an afternoon of snickers and sly comments. A wet tablet of brown watercolour paint left on my chair leaving me with a revolting stain all over the back of my skirt, and snide questions afterwards asking whether I'd crapped myself. When I tried to ignore them, not to react, so as to give them no entertainment, they had upped the game.

The last thing they had done before the holidays was steal the contents of my lunchbox and replace it with live worms and a foul, rotting snail. I had nearly thrown up when the stench hit my nostrils and I saw the writhing mass inside. I had thrown the lot in some bushes and washed the lunch box out in the girls' toilets, so Mum wouldn't find out, just as I had explained away the skirt stain and other things as accidents or my own carelessness. She and Dad would only make a huge fuss and storm in, demanding to see the Head. They would be punished, and then things would get much worse, I knew it.

The only thing that had got me through last term was the thought that over Christmas I might have become a witch and never need to go back there again.

But now it was the third of January, the skies were heavy with unfallen snow, and it was time to leave the house.

"Are you all right, Jennifer, love?" said Mum, as she handed me my coat. "You look a bit peaky."

"I'm fine."

"You're missing your sister, aren't you?" she asked softly. I sighed. Of course I was missing Juliet. That was like asking a double amputee if he missed his legs, and it didn't help to be constantly asked. Still, Mum continued with her platitudes. "It's only twelve weeks until the Easter holidays, darling. Have you written to her already?"

"I know. And I wrote to her last night. I'm fine, Mum, honest. See you later."

"'Bye, love..."

Hood up against the icy wind, I walked slowly to the bus stop, thinking about Juliet's last letter. It was still as good as ever to untie her notes from Artemis' leg and find out what she was doing.

The bus was a council-run public bus that stopped close by, not a school one, and on a different route from Theirs. So at least my journeys were hassle-free. But the closer the bus pulled to Greenhill, the bitterer I felt. Everything about its square, squat, functional building and neat green grounds screamed NOT HOGWARTS! It just wasn't _fair_ that I was going back here. The whole situation had always reeked with injustice, but it was even worse now my hopes had been dashed. And as for Them...they would be waiting for me, I knew, and suddenly I realised things were different this term. I was angry now, angrier than I had ever been. Last term, consumed only with thoughts of getting to Hogwarts, only at Greenhill in body and not spirit, I had acted like a wet rag around them – allowed myself to be pushed around and trodden on. Now, I felt my fury at being left behind again simmering in the pit of my stomach, ready to erupt.

They left me alone until midway through lunchtime; lulling me into a false sense of security, perhaps. I had hidden myself away behind a tree outside the Maths block, and, to ease the ache inside me from missing Juliet, had taken her last letter out of my schoolbag to reread. The only people close at the time were a small gaggle of Year Tens, discreetly sharing a cigarette away from the watchful eyes of the supervising lunch teacher, and they didn't seem interested in me.

But halfway through reading, the letter was snatched from my hands. They had found me. Spiteful Sandy Meadows with her cold green eyes and freckles; Sabrina Khan, sleek as a Siamese cat; Arash Mojabi, a born thug; and Robbie Townsend, who clowned around but had a nasty streak not everyone saw. Sandy was holding the letter, her long painted nails like claws.

I stood up, blood running cold. "Give that back!"

"What's wrong, Twitchy?" purred Sabrina, and the others laughed. Sabrina had dubbed me Twitchy last term when Robbie had dropped a large beetle down my neck, causing me to shriek and flap frantically until I had clawed the awful scuttling thing out of my blouse.

"Ahh, look, Twitchy has a letter, how _quaint_..."

Arash guffawed. "From her sister who can't bear to be at the same school as her!" This was a running joke, since they had found out, early on, that I was a twin.

"Give. It. _Back._ " I snapped, the anger that had been bubbling in me all day rising in my chest, and made a grab for the letter. Sandy held it above her head.

"Let's have a read then!" she said, shaking it open and squinting at it, against the sky. " _Dear Jennifer...I'm back in my dorm and miss you to pieces already_...awww..." I made another swipe for it, jumping and missing. "Here, Sabrina, have a read..."

"That's private! _Hey!_ "

Sabrina, who was even taller than Sandy, took the letter with casual elegance, holding it high above my reach, and picked out a few choice lines. " _I bought you a magic chocolate frog from the trolley witch on the train, I'll send it with Artemis...I have a Charms lesson tomorrow, I'm looking forward to practising the shrinking spell we started before Christmas..."_ she drawled, her eyes widening as she realised how peculiar the letter was. "What's this? Little Twitchy plays _pretend games_ with her sister! Oh, how _adorable_... she's pretending she's a witch and does ickle magic spells!"

The others burst out laughing. "Are you a witch, too, Twitchy?" grinned Arash, poking me painfully in the ribs as I continued to reach fruitlessly for the letter, spitting incoherently now.

"Twitchy Witchy!" said Robbie, wittily, which drew another gale of laughter from the four of them.

"Let's see you magic a rabbit out of a hat then!"

"Don't forget to say _abracadabra!_ Or is it _'shala-kazaam!'?_ "

"Where's your wand, Twitchy Witchy?"

Finally I erupted, all the pent-up rage from the last five months at once released in an explosion of fury. Completely losing control, I clawed savagely at Sabrina's smug face so that she screamed and dropped the letter, and when Robbie reached for it, I threw myself at him, kicking and biting like a wildcat. He bellowed and thrashed, overbalancing and crashing to the ground. Taken by surprise, the others took a moment to react, but then Arash had my arms and Sandra had my legs, and they pulled me off him as Sabrina snivelled, clutching her face. My nails were bitten to the quick, so I'd left barely a scratch, just some reddish marks, but her dark eyes with their long lashes were flashing furiously at me.

Robbie was still groaning, dazed, on the ground as I flailed, helplessly trapped. Sabrina moved forwards, her long fingers and painted nails outstretched and yanked up my sleeve to reveal the smooth, soft flesh of my underarm. She was going to give me the worst Chinese burn I had ever had in revenge, I knew it. Yelling and twisting, I struggled to release myself from Arash and Sandra's iron grip.

"What's going on here?"

They let go immediately and I fell painfully onto the gravel, panting. We all looked round, expecting a teacher, but it was one of the Year Tens from the gaggle nearby who had been smoking quietly in the corner. The older girl had short, spiky black hair and startlingly blue eyes heavily ringed with eyeliner, and when she spoke I saw the flash of a tongue piercing.

"None of your business," Sabrina hissed venomously as Robbie and I picked ourselves up, and I scrabbled to grab Juliet's trampled letter, and stuff it back into my bag. Robbie had the beginnings of a magnificent black eye and he gave me a funny look, with a hint of respect in it.

"Actually, it is my business when four teenagers pick on one little kid. About to beat her up, were you? How very _brave_. Think you're big, now, Sandra?" (She called Sandy a word so bad, I went bright red.)

Arash and Sandra just shrugged, though Robbie actually looked a little embarrassed. Sabrina's eyes were still narrowed, the red mark on her face not quickly forgotten.

"Get out of it, the lot of you," said the older girl laconically, draping her arm around my shoulders. "Go on – scram. C'mon, kid." And she steered me away.

Sandra and the others sloped away, probably as confused by this sudden turn of events as I was myself. Soon I found myself staring up timidly at the group of Year Ten students, who had stopped passing round their cigarette to eye me with interest.

"What've you got here, Tara?" queried a pretty, plump girl with dyed white-blonde hair and her skirt rolled up so high I blinked and averted my eyes so as not to see her knickers. She was holding the remains of the cigarette and I coughed as the smoke blew into my face. She looked amused, but ground it out all the same. "Sorry, kid."

"Sandra Meadows and the rest of that gang having a bit of fun with this one," said Tara drily. "She's got spunk though, did you see her go for that big lad? I like a girl with guts."

"Little tiger, eh?" grinned a Jamaican lad with dreadlocks and a wide, open smile. "That's the way to show 'em, man."

I felt my cheeks redden. "Hey - thanks for helping me out," I said croakily. "Do you – d'you know Sandy, then?"

"Since she was in nappies," said Tara scornfully. "Lives in my road. Nasty piece of work, her Dad left when she was three and her mother drinks like a fish, and I don't blame either of them, I would if I were them. 'Sandy', is she now? She probably thinks that makes her sound like a film star. Porn star, more like."

This was a revelation about Sandy. I even felt a little sorry for her, though Tara looked nothing but dismissive. I wouldn't like to be on the receiving end of her sharp tongue.

"Anyway, hey, so this is the gang," said Tara, waving her hand at the group. "This is Lennie," – the student with dreadlocks – "and Jasmin," indicating the blonde girl. "Zac," – a slender, long-legged black student who somehow wore our awful uniform with such grace it looked stylish. "And Ben." Ben was a girl whose short dark-brown hair framed a pale, elfish face.

I was completely unused to this kind of casual friendliness. After a while, all I managed was a shy look at Ben, whose name surprised me, and: "Um, hi. I'm Jennifer...I'm in Year Seven...why are you called Ben?"

The gang laughed, and so did the girl called Ben. "I'm Brenda really," she said, pretending to shudder. "But when I was really little I couldn't say my 'r's so I called myself Ben-da and it became Ben, which stuck. I prefer it."

I grinned at her, liking her openness. "It suits you."

There was an amicable silence, then Zac spoke up, his thumb hooked elegantly through a loop in his waistband. "Anyway, don't you worry no more about those kids that were giving you trouble," he said. "You're with us, now, they'll leave you alone. We'll see to it."

"Shake on it," said Tara, winking and putting out her hand. "We'll look out for you, kiddo."

I shook each of their hands in turn, flushing with pleasure.

"What on earth have you done to your hand?" said Zac, frowning and flipping my palm over. The puckered skin of the burn scar looked gruesome in the cold light of the oppressive yellowy sky.

"Oh, that," I said, blushing even more and pulling my hand back, curling up my fingers. "It's nothing. I did it over Christmas...it's a long story."

"Looks like a burn," said Zac, with concern. "God, your parents don't – do bad stuff to you, do they?"

"Oh, no!" I said, horrified that he could even think such a thing about Mum and Dad. "No – _never_. I had an accident at Stonehenge – at the Winter Solstice."

"You went to the _Solstice_ at Stonehenge?" said Tara in amazement. _"You,_ kid? It gets pretty wild there, doesn't it? You went with your parents, obviously..."

"Actually I went with my sister...I have a twin sister...um, it's a long story, but we ran away for the weekend to go there and - well, I got a bit drunk and sort of fell into someone's fire."

Everyone was looking at me with renewed interest.

"Hang on. You got pissed at the midwinter rave at Stonehenge there, and you're, what, eleven? You're having us on, right?" This was from Jasmin.

"No, not at all. I don't usually do that kind of thing, though."

"Well," said Jasmin. "If that's right, you, kiddo, are a hell of a lot more interesting than you look."

I wasn't sure if this was a compliment or not, so I just gave a half-smile and said nothing.

"Too right she is," said Tara. "I'm glad I came across you today, kiddo. I say we have a celebratory fag together."

She pulled out a near-empty pack of cigarettes and lit one.

"Oh, um," I said stupidly as she offered it to me. I couldn't smoke that, it smelled foul. Besides, cigarettes cause lung cancer! And what would Mum and Dad say if they smelt it on me?

"Go on," laughed Tara. "I know you don't smoke, you're so sweet and innocent, aren't you? But just a puff. It'll make you one of us properly."

I hesitated, then took the horrible thing with clumsy fingers and sucked on it briefly to get it over with. Next second I was coughing and gasping as the filthy smoke poured into my lungs.

Everyone laughed and Lennie thumped me on the back until I stopped spluttering.

"There you go, kid," said Tara. "One of us."

And she took a deep drag, her bold eyes twinkling at me, just as the snow which had been hanging heavy in the high skies all day slowly started to fall...


	13. Rescued

_January, 2019_

Jennifer

There was only one incident, after that day. It turned out Sabrina Khan didn't easily let go of grudges, and her scratched face hadn't been forgiven or forgotten.

She and Arash Mojabi had caught me alone after school, on the short walk from the school gates to the bus stop. Sabrina must have been watching me closely, cat-fashion, waiting to pounce; thuggish Arash, evidently, had been persuaded to help her conduct her revenge.

Until then I hadn't realised at all that Sabrina, when angered, bordered on psychotic. She had slammed me against the side wall of the school building, out of sight of the stream of pupils leaving the gates, and I'd gasped in pain as she clawed her fingers through my hair, twisting tightly, and hissing, "Scream, and I'll put it out at the roots". Tears sprang to my eyes as I waited, terrified, for whatever revenge she was about to take. To my horror she pulled out a clear Tupperware box containing a large, leggy house spider; it skittered around inside as she held it up to my face to see my reaction. My eyes had widened and I'd not been able to help jerking my head to the side to try to get further away. Sabrina had smiled triumphantly.

"Don't like spiders, Twitchy Witchy?" she'd purred. "What a pity. I caught this one just for you. They taste _dee_ -licious. Why don't you...have a try?"

As soon as she'd said "taste" I'd started thrashing in terror, jaw clenched tightly shut – but Arash, grinning inanely, held me against the wall with one thick arm and pinched my nostrils together with his free hand until I was struggling for breath. Sabrina snapped the lid off the Tupperware and casually scooped the wriggling spider up between her long fingers.

I probably would have fainted from lack of oxygen before I would ever have opened my mouth but to my everlasting relief I was never to find out.

Lennie's massive fist came out of nowhere, hitting Arash squarely in the side of the head so that he let out an _oof_ of pain and fell heavily on the gravel. Head spinning, I sucked in great lungfuls of air, gasping like a fish. Then Tara was there too, and the others closed in, and before I knew it Sabrina was whimpering in Lennie's iron grip. Zac, Ben and Jasmin all sat on Arash to keep him quiet while Tara wrenched the (now limp) spider from Sabrina's fingers and thrust it close to her mouth.

"Think that was funny, did you?" Tara snarled, ferocious. "How would you like to eat it yourself, bitch?"

Sabrina started to thrash just as hard as I had done, trying desperately to wriggle away.

Tara held the spider right up against Sabrina's lips for a few more long seconds, then finally dropped the dead thing with disdain onto the pavement. "Well, I won't, 'cause luckily I'm not an utter sicko, like you. So we'll forget it, yeah? But next time you try anything – _anything_ – you won't get off easy like this. I'm watchin' you now. Got that, bitch?"

Sabrina nodded; a small, scared child now, nothing like her usual sleek self, and Lennie released her. A frightened tear rolled down her cheek as she stumbled away, Arash behind her; and as my friends – my incredible friends – gathered round me in concern, smoothing my tangled hair, checking I was okay, I knew she would never dare bother me again.

I wrote to Juliet that evening. I had felt bad about not telling her before, but I had no choice. Now I was safe, it was time. I kept the letter simple, though, not wanting to let on how bad the bullying had been, and hesitant about letting on how warmly I felt towards Tara and the others. We'd never had any friends outside each other; it felt like a tiny betrayal, but at the same time surely she would be pleased for me? My letter read:

 _Dear Juliet,_

 _Your Transfiguration lesson yesterday sounded incredible: I can't believe Professor McGonagall can turn herself into a cat! Amazing to have a Headmistress who has that power and comes to a lesson to demonstrate! Our Head isn't half as exciting. She does smell quite strongly of cats, though._

 _Something unexpected has happened this week. I didn't mention it before because I knew you'd worry...but I was being bullied a bit last term. It's all right now though – a group of Year Tens rescued me last week when they were teasing me! And again today when one of the girls tried to do something quite nasty. They scared her so bad she won't go near me again, I know._

 _I'm hanging out with the Year Tens at break times now. They are cool, especially Tara, who is kind of the ringleader, I guess. You'd like her, even though she's nothing like us. She smokes and has piercings and isn't scared of anything. The others are called Zac, Jasmin, Lennie, and Ben (who is a girl)._

 _Anyway I hope your flying lesson was okay today, it's freezing here so must be way worse in Scotland, I'm not surprised you didn't much fancy it!_

 _Love,_

 _Jennifer  
x_

A little weight rose off my shoulders as I watched Apollo disappear into the inky black January sky, headed north as true as an arrow. It was a relief to know that by morning Juliet would no longer be in the dark about my school experiences. And surely, she couldn't be cross at me for long. She was the one who had been picked to have all the fun at Hogwarts.

My thoughts were troubled that night, though, by something else. Though I was wildly grateful to Tara and the others, I couldn't help feeling uncomfortable about how pathetic I'd been when I was attacked, how fruitlessly I'd struggled, like a kitten in the mouth of a Rottweiler. And I'd thought, even then, how if I had been a witch everything would've been different. With a wave of my wand I would've been able to curse Sabrina and Arash until they were no more than crawling, helpless slugs.

Juliet would know jinxes already to fend off people like them. If anything, what had happened today had only hardened my resolve, weakened a little over Christmas after the fiasco at Stonehenge. I wanted to be magic. Oh, I wanted it so much: I'd be a different person, strong and independent!

As I sank into sleep, I resolved to ask Juliet in my next letter if she'd had any more luck in the Hogwarts library.

* * *

The next day Sabrina gave me a wide berth, to my immense satisfaction, as did Arash. Sandy had lost interest in me the week before, preferring to look for easier prey, I suppose.

Something weird happened in the corridor between my Maths and P.E. class, though. I bumped into Robbie Townsend in the throng of students, and automatically shied away. But he caught my arm to stop me and I realised – of all things – he was grinning at me. His left eye was still a faint bluish-yellow from our tussle last week. To my amazement, he stuck out his hand.

"Hey, erm – look. We were out of order, you know, last term...you're all right, really. Never had a girl give me a black eye before. I just wanted to say – well, sorry, I guess. Friends?"

I raised my eyebrows in disbelief and ignored the expectant hand. This jerk helped make my life living hell for nearly half a year and now all of a sudden he's playing Mr Nice Guy? I didn't think so.

"Thanks for the apology," I said coolly, and brushed past him, adding, "But you've _got_ to be joking."

From the glimpse I got of Robbie's face as I walked away, he looked angry and put out. Well, that was his problem; I knew who my real friends were.

I sought Tara and the gang out at lunch time in our corner of the playground; they talked a _lot_ about embarrassing things like sex (something I never even discussed with Juliet, I mean, yuck, right?) and laughed when they saw how much I was blushing. It was good-humoured, though. The cigarette smoke that perpetually hung around the group still made me cough a little, but oddly I found its presence comforting. It meant I was around friends. And it was – well, it was a good feeling.

* * *

Juliet's reply, waiting for me when I came back from school, blew my fragile new bubble of happiness to pieces. I saw immediately from her jagged handwriting and many ink blots the way in which her furious quill had scratched out her response.

 _JENNIFER! You are seriously telling me you were bullied all last term and you_ never mentioned it _? Not to_ me _? I just can't believe you did that. I thought you'd told me everything, like I tell YOU everything! You can't just miss out stuff like that so I 'don't worry'! That's not what we do!_

' _Teasing'? 'Tried to do something quite nasty'? Why are you being so vague?_ What _did they do to you? What else are you keeping from me?_

 _And I'm stunned you figured you'd get help from random strangers instead of me – I thought we didn't need other people! I thought I was your best friend!_

 _Apparently I'm not!_

The letter ended abruptly there. She hadn't even signed it, and I read and reread it in growing disbelief. We never did this. Arguing with my twin, well, it was like arguing with myself; that was silly, what was the point? But as I sat on my bed clutching the letter, I suddenly felt furious. What right had she to judge me like this? Why did she have to demand every last squalid detail? Couldn't she even be a little glad that I wasn't being bullied anymore?

Fuming, I plopped into the beanbag in the corner of our room, grabbed a piece of paper, and dashed off a scathing reply. My biro didn't make furious ink blots like Juliet's quill, but oh, it would have if it could!

"Right then, Apollo!" I said shortly, getting up and stomping over to my owl's usual perch on top of our bookcase. "You can take this for my so-called _sister and best friend_ , and you just give her a peck from me, too." And I tied the letter angrily to his leg.

After a moment I saw that Apollo was gazing at me reproachfully with his deep honey-coloured eyes.

"What?" I snapped, carrying him on my arm to the window. "Go on, then. Off you go."

But my stubborn owl ducked his head and raised his left leg to scratch gently at the letter tied to his right, hooting softly.

I gave him a soft shove. "Get going! I can say what I like!" Apollo gave me one last unhappy look then shuffled along my arm, preparing to take off.

I caught him just as he reluctantly spread his wings.

"Oh, for goodness' sake. Fine. You're right. She had a lot to take in all of a sudden." It was embarrassing to realised my owl had more sense than either of us; writing back in anger would've been satisfying right now but I knew, I suppose, it would've been pointless.

"Okay, I'll sleep on it," I told Apollo, untying the letter from his leg, and crumpling it up. "You can take a different letter in the morning. Go and hunt, now, and don't look so smug."

Apollo rubbed his sleek feathered head against my outstretched knuckles and hooted again in a satisfied way, before soaring out of the window.

When I awoke the next day, I left a few owl treats on the bottom of the sleeping Apollo's cage in appreciation. In the peace of the early morning, I found my anger had faded. I just felt sad and a little tired, and hoped Juliet wouldn't keep being stupid about the whole thing.

I wrote this:

 _Juliet,_

 _I didn't mean to hurt you. I was worried you would leave Hogwarts to be with me and we both know why that's not a good idea. So I kept it to myself, not that I wanted to._

 _Don't ask me to explain every little thing they did, I just want to forget it, honestly. It was just dumb bullying from a few Year Nine kids at lunchtimes._ _But it's fine now because Tara and the gang are watching out for me. And you are my best friend. It goes without saying you always will be. It's nice not to be alone all the time at school, that's all. Aren't you the slightest bit friends with anyone there? I don't mind if you are or want to be._

 _Nothing can change what we are, you know._

 _Jennifer  
_ _x_

 _P.S. More importantly, the bullying made me even more sick of being a pathetic Muggle. I want to be magic, Juliet. Are you still researching our problem? Any new finds?_

Apollo gave a soft squawk of approval as I tied the letter to his leg, and bobbed his head. "Go on then, you bossy bird," I said. Then added, mostly joking, "And maybe just give her a teensy peck for being a rubbish sister yesterday," as I tipped him gently out of the window.


	14. A Handful of Photographs

_January 2019_

Jennifer

When the weekend arrived so did a gloriously long letter from Juliet; this time free of ink blots and written in her usual neat handwriting, which was the same as mine down to every last flick and curl.

 _Jen,_

 _I spent the whole of yesterday feeling guilty about that letter. Seriously...I was horrified and upset by your news so I scribbled that back without thinking and was_ _consumed_ _with guilt as soon as Artemis was out of sight. I'm sorry. Please tear it into tiny pieces!_

 _Of course I'm glad really that you have people looking out for you and particularly that it's all stopped. It just hurts me so much to think of you going through all that awful, terrible stuff without me when we've always shared_ _everything_ _, and I couldn't help feeling weird about you making other friends._

 _Tara does sound cool, I guess. Everyone here obviously hates me or think I'm weird. The only person I like is Professor Vector. Yesterday she saw me looking upset and asked me into her office for a cup of tea. She gave me hexagon-shaped biscuits, let me play with Quinky, her pet Knarl (he's a sort of magic hedgehog!), and didn't pry one bit._

 _I'm homesick already...Hogwarts is cold and draughty in winter, they don't put any kind of heating spells on it and it's seems so far away from our cosy house. I never appreciated central heating and electric blankets before: now_ they _seem like magic!_

 _I guess I'm feeling bad too because I've not found anything the slightest bit useful to help us. It's almost like the Hogwarts library censors the kind of stuff we want to find out. Maybe the wizarding world just doesn't_ want _to give powers to non-magic people...they are obviously weird about Muggles finding out about them. But I really think that magic is pretty much limitless...it's unbelievable what it can be used for. If there's not a way to turn a Muggle into a witch or wizard I would eat my whole Hogwarts uniform, not just the pointy hat._

 _I daren't ask any of the teachers for help – even Professor Vector. They'd know why I was asking, and it'd get back to McGonagall, I'd bet anything what we're trying to do isn't legal, and I guess it could be dangerous. They'd stop us if they knew. I'll try to think of someone we can ask safely._

 _Miss you loads,_

 _Juliet  
x _

I was enormously relieved that Juliet wasn't still furious with me and that thanks to my clever Apollo I had held back my first angry reply. But to hear how homesick she was this term...the little ache that was always in my chest when we were apart throbbed harder to think of this. The Easter holidays were ages away.

After musing sadly on this for a while, I had a sudden inspiration. Oh...what an idea. If only Mum and Dad would agree! I ran downstairs, suddenly hopeful. They were in the living room, Dad reading his Saturday paper and Mum sketching out a few ideas for her latest children's picture book commission. They both looked up in surprise as I came in.

"Ah, it's Jennifer the Stranger emerging from her cave. How nice of you to join us." Dad had been making numerous pointed comments lately about all the time I spent in my bedroom, 'here comes the onset of anti-social adolescence', et cetera. I bit back a snarky reply.

"Yeah, okay...hi. So, um, I was just thinking –"

"Be careful."

"Shut up, Dad."

He grinned and folded up his paper. "Sorry. Force of habit. Do continue."

"Well, you know how I get half-term holidays and Juliet doesn't?"

There was a short pause.

"If you are going to ask if you can go on a lone escapade up to Hogwarts to visit Juliet in February half-term, the answer is obviously no," said Mum, severely. "There was quite enough of that over Christmas. I am not going to mention the word Stonehenge."

"No, Mum! Of course I wasn't thinking that. I wondered about, maybe – all of us going? We could have a holiday in Scotland, you know, and then we could see Juliet in the evenings and on the weekend if the school lets her do that? You always say Scotland is really nice."

"Well – it _is_ ," said Dad. "Scotland is beautiful. But not in February. It'll be unbearably cold and turn dark depressingly early and I can pretty much guarantee it'll rain, or snow, possibly all week. The best bet for Scottish holidays is May – for fair weather, before the midges start swarming."

Mum gave me a sympathetic smile. "It's a lovely idea, Jennifer, but..."

"But Juliet's really homesick!" I said, desperately, seeing that they liked the idea but were already shelving it until early summer. "She just told me in her last letter. She says Hogwarts is cold and lonely, and she misses us so much."

"Oh..." said Mum, her forehead creasing. "My poor baby. She didn't say all that when she wrote to us last."

"She probably didn't want you to worry," I said. "But she told me...and I just thought, you know, we could surprise her with a visit."

Dad was also looking ruffled and I knew he didn't like the idea of Juliet being so unhappy, either. Sensing they were caving just a little, I added, " _And_ if we all went away together we'd have proper family time. I promise I'd not stay in my bedroom all the time, honest. It doesn't matter if it rains – we can, you know, play board games and stuff. And there's always museums we could visit." I was playing on my parents' weak spot. There was nothing Mum and Dad liked to do more on rainy Sundays than traipse around gloomy old museums and gallerys, dragging me with them.

They shared a thoughtful glance.

"We'll think about it, Jennifer," said Mum at last. "I do hate to think of Juliet being homesick up there. And it _would_ be nice to have some family time. Not that you two necessarily deserve it after what happened before Christmas..."

I beamed at Mum, my heart skipping. "Oh, thanks, Mum, thanks _so_ much!"

"Hang on a minute," said Dad. "We've not decided yet!"

"Yeah, but..." I could tell the tide had turned.

Dad started reading his paper again, but didn't contradict me, which I took as a good sign.

"Mum," I ventured. There was something else on my mind.

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"You know your great-aunt?"

"Well, not really, darling. I know _of_ her. She's probably long dead. She'd be nearly a hundred if not."

"Oh. Well...but you definitely don't know her name? I just – wondered, you know, if now that we have a link to the magical world we could find out more about who she was and what she did. It'd be really interesting."

Mum tapped the tip of her sketching pencil against her chin, thoughtfully, then got up and went to the sideboard. She pulled out an old photo album.

"To be honest, love, no. My grandfather never mentioned her name. But her surname would have been my maiden name, Dibbs. Unless she married; but Dibbs originally. But I do have some photographs."

She handed me the album, pointing at a few group photos, old and discoloured.

"This is her, here...and here...and at the back, here. She was at my great-aunt Kathleen's wedding – before I was born, of course. They were sisters. I don't know if she was invited, or just turned up...I know Kathleen never spoke of her, so I suspect she was an unwelcome guest. She did make it into the family photographs, though...I inherited this album when Grandfather died and recognised her straightaway, from the time I saw her at his funeral. She was younger here, of course...probably fifty years younger...but her hair was the same, though white, and something about her expression here made me know it was her. She looked so sad."

I peered at the faded black-and-white pictures. She was a thin wisp of a woman with a cloud of pale hair and a very wistful face. I carefully tugged one of the pictures out of the album.

"Can I keep this, Mum? It'd be cool if we can find out about her."

"I'd love that, Jennifer," said Mum. "Of course you can keep it."

I slipped the photo into my trouser pocket, pleased. I had a tentative plan.

Back in my bedroom I checked to see if Artemis was still there. Usually each other's owls stayed for a while to have a drink, a rest and a gossip, before flying back. Our daily routine of my evening and Juliet's morning letters meant our owls were extremely active and didn't get a great deal of rest, but they were glossy and sleek and clearly thrived on the exercise, loving their jobs; post owls were clearly bred to be useful.

Now, both Artemis and Apollo were perched on my bookcase, rubbing heads affectionately.

"Don't fly back just yet, please, Artemis," I said. Juliet's owl gave me a questioning look. "I need you to take back a letter to Juliet, I've got another job for Apollo..."

They both pressed forward curiously. "Hoo-oo?" said Apollo.

"Hang on, I haven't written anything yet..."

I grabbed my pen and scribbled a note to Juliet.

 _Thank you for the lovely letter, Juliet. I'm so happy you aren't mad with me anymore. Forget it, yeah?_

 _I am not going to say much here because I am working on an idea! Before you worry...I'm not hiding anything, I just want to check something before I explain. If it works, it'll be a good surprise! You'll know soon either way, I promise._

 _I'm using Apollo for my idea, so we'll have to send letters back and forth with Artemis for now._

 _Hang on in there at Hogwarts! Just remember you are exempt from maths and science lessons forever and that should cheer you up, right? Quinky the Knarl sounds awesome, by the way. How are Knarls different to hedgehogs?_

 _Love,_

 _Jennifer  
x_

Artemis took the letter and soared gracefully out of my window. I sometimes wondered if the neighbours noticed the constant passage of owls...

My next letter was a complete gamble, but worth a shot, I figured. I chewed my pen for a while. How could I write to a complete stranger who had been so badly wronged by earlier generations of my family? Eventually I settled on a polite and slightly formal tone.

 _Dear Miss Dibbs (apologies if you have changed surname),_

 _I hope this letter finds you well. You don't know me but I am your great-great-niece, Jennifer Belstone. My mum is Fiona Belstone, neé Dibbs, granddaughter of your brother Thomas._

 _Last summer my twin sister Juliet was accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry which was as you can imagine a surprise to us all. Mum and Dad are very pleased, now that they've got their heads around it. Obviously it was disappointing for everyone that I didn't get a place as the magical gene somehow passed me by. I find Juliet's stories about Hogwarts fascinating, though._

 _Anyway, in all the upheaval Mum remembered you. And from the little she had seen and heard of you as a girl, she figured it out; you also went to Hogwarts, didn't you?_

 _We'd all love to meet you some time, if you would like to meet us. And I'm sorry if this comes a little late. My immediate family never knew how to contact you before. I thought perhaps my owl, Apollo, might find you._

 _Please do reply, if he does!_

 _Cordially,_

 _Jennifer Belstone_

I hoped that was all right. Of course, as Mum said, there was the very real possibility that Miss Dibbs was long dead. But she was the only witch I could think of with my limited knowledge of the magical world, who wasn't a Hogwarts teacher; Juliet clearly hadn't considered her as a source of information and advice. If she was still alive, I wanted to talk to her.

I pulled the photograph out of my pocket and showed it to Apollo, who peered at it curiously.

"I want you to find someone for me if you can, Apollo," I whispered. "This lady here. This is a very old photograph so if she's still alive she'll be an elderly woman now. Her surname was Dibbs...I don't know if it still is. I'm sorry I don't know anything else, but you can ask around if you meet other magical owls on your journey, can't you? And I figure clever post owls like you might have ways of tracking people down. Here, take the photo too so if you find her, she knows I'm genuine." I popped the letter and photo into an envelope.

Apollo ruffled his feathers, hopped up and down a few times, let out a loud "hoo-OOO-oo!", then stuck out his leg eagerly. I giggled. Clearly he was happy to have a new challenge.

I watched as he dwindled to a speck in the cold grey January sky, a flutter of excitement in my stomach. Maybe it would come to nothing, but after kicking my heels uselessly for months while Juliet did all the research, it was good to be pursuing an idea.

* * *

"We'll go to Scotland in February," Dad told me at dinner that evening. "Your mother and I have discussed it and decided it's _would_ be a good thing to do, especially as Juliet's not settled this term. We'll spend the week nearby and have some family time, if the Headmistress agrees, of course."

"Oh – mmphf – brilliant!" I choked, through a mouthful of baked beans.

"Jennifer!"

"Oops – sorry, Mum." I swallowed. "But _thanks_ , Dad! Can we not tell Juliet, and make it a surprise? Please?"

"Why not!" said Mum. "I hate to think of my poor girl homesick up there. I would never have chosen boarding school for either of you in a million years. It is such a shame Hogwarts isn't in Devon."

"It'll be rotten weather, I'm sure, but we'll pick a cosy cottage and batten down the hatches for the duration if necessary. And we'll be able to see this Hogwarts when we pick Juliet up!" said Dad, trying and failing not to look too eager. After seeing Diagon Alley and the wonders of Platform Nine and Three Quarters, he was like a big kid whenever he had the chance to see more of the magical world.

"I'll write to Professor McGonagall," said Mum. "I wondered if Juliet could even stay with us all week – and we could drop her off and pick her up each day. I'll ask which is the nearest village to the school. Could I borrow Apollo, Jennifer, darling?"

"Oh, um - yes, of course, Mum," I said, thinking quickly. I hadn't wanted to tell Mum what I'd done earlier. If the old lady was alive, I'd wanted to surprise Mum with the news; I liked surprises. Besides, if she wasn't, I'd give Mum false hope. I figured the next time I wrote to Juliet, I would just ask Artemis to take two letters to Hogwarts.

Artemis was only a small owl, so the next day I wrote my reply to Juliet (who was bursting with curiosity after my last letter) on thin airmail paper from Dad's bureau so it wouldn't be too much for her to carry, and tied it to her leg. She took Mum's letter in her beak when I offered it to her, saying as I stroked her sleek feathered head, "Take this one to Professor McGonagall first, Artemis, then go to Juliet, please."

Artemis gave a muffled hoot to show she understood, then took off through the window.

The reply from Hogwarts came swiftly, brought by a very beautiful owl with silvery feathers and luminous eyes. To our surprise, it was not Professor McGonagall who answered.

 _Dear Mr and Mrs Belstone,_

 _Professor McGonagall passed your letter on to me, as head of Juliet's House. To introduce myself, my name is Professor Septima Vector, and I am a teacher of Arithmancy._

 _Usually we do not recommend that students visit their families during term time as this has the potential to cause homesickness amongst the others. However, given your situation, the Headmistress and I would be happy to make an exception. The division of siblings in this way is always upsetting, and doubly so in the case of twins._

 _In fact, I had been considering writing to you as Juliet seems still not to have settled in this term; I found her rather down in the dumps just the other day, and she took some cheering up. I'm sorry to see that she still isolates herself from her peers. Perhaps spending a week with you all close by will help Hogwarts seem less far away from home._

 _However, I'm afraid I cannot reveal the location of Hogwarts. It is Unplottable and enveloped by protective spells, and as Muggles if you were to come anywhere close you would find yourself wandering in the opposite direction._ (Dad looked very disappointed as he read this.) _Might I suggest that you make arrangements to stay in the large Muggle town of Fort William in the west of Scotland. This is not particularly nearby, but not too long a journey by broom or Thestral. I would be delighted to escort Juliet to and from the school personally, each day._

 _As you suggest, I won't tell Juliet of your plans so it shall be a surprise!_

 _Kindest regards,_

 _Professor Septima Vector  
Head of Ravenclaw House  
_

What a Thestral was I had no idea...but a holiday in Fort William it was, and in just three weeks' time! I couldn't wait to see Juliet's face when she saw us. I was bouncing with happiness when I skipped upstairs that evening, and wasn't at all prepared for what I saw in my bedroom.

Apollo was back – wow, already! He sat on top the bookcase, looking decidedly pleased with himself. A little letter in a violet envelope was tied neatly to his leg, with _Miss Jennifer Belstone_ written across the front in an elegant, old-fashioned hand.


	15. The Violet Envelope

_January 2019_

Jennifer

"Apollo, you _genius!_ " I whispered as I untied the violet envelope with trembling fingers. Apollo puffed up his chest and let out a pleased hoot. "Here, have these, you deserve them!" I kissed the top of his feathery head and tipped a small mountain of owl treats onto the bookcase.

The letter was written on thin paper that smelt faintly of lavender. I read it quickly, heart thumping.

 _Dearest Jennifer_ ,

 _It makes my heart truly glad to read from you. Your clever Apollo came home with my own owl, Patty, just last night; what a surprise that was. At my age usually nothing much surprises me anymore._

 _My brother Thomas and my sister Kath were such blessed fools. I loved them dearly, but they never could see magic for what it was; so they were scared, and I was an outcast from the moment my letter arrived from Hogwarts. And now we have a new witch in the family! I am so happy to hear that your family did not take the news as mine did..._

 _But how about you, my dear? You and Juliet are twins, and not both witches? That is the most unfortunate stroke of luck. Fate is not always kind, is it? But I can sympathise...I, too, was divided from my family by magic. Always remember, Jennifer, that nothing –_ nothing _– is more important than family. Money, possessions, yes, even magic...eventually it all falls by the wayside. Take this from a witch who has had no real family since the age of eleven (I never did marry)._

 _I would dearly love to meet you all. Perhaps I could drop by for a cup of tea one day?_ _I live in Seahouses, but the distance is no matter as I can Apparate (a very speedy magical way of travelling)._

 _Yours delightedly,_

 _Ada Dibbs (I would be thrilled if you called me Aunt Ada)_

I read the letter twice, still hardly believing it. She was alive, and she wanted to come for tea! Unable to keep the news from myself a moment longer, I ran downstairs waving the letter. Mum and Dad were both half-asleep in front of the telly when I threw open the door.

"Guess what!"

They both jumped, and Dad knocked his mug of lukewarm tea onto the carpet.

"Oh, Jennifer! Don't just burst in like that," he said in exasperation, hunting frantically for the tissues.

"Sorry, sorry..." I said, grabbing them and helping to mop up as Mum hurried to get a rag from the kitchen.

Once it was mostly dry only a faint brown stain remained, which Dad poked morosely. "I'll get it out properly with carpet cleaner another time," he said.

Excitement over, I remembered why I'd come downstairs in the first place, and snatched up the letter which I'd dropped on the floor.

"Mum, look, read this," I said, pushing the letter into her hand, and bouncing up and down with suppressed delight. Mum scanned the letter, puzzled, then let out an exclamation of pleasure.

"Oh, Jennifer, you clever girl!"

"Well, it was Apollo, really...he found her."

Dad came over to read the letter too. "What's all this?"

"Jennifer's owl tracked down my great-aunt," said Mum, giving me a hug. "And she'd like to come round for a cup of tea some time."

"Excellent," said Dad. "Maybe she can magically get that one out of the carpet for me."

"Oh, no," said Mum, nudging him in the ribs. "It's elbow grease for that, we're not asking a long-lost family member to clean the house. Jennifer, darling, this is wonderful news. Do write back and say we'd love to have her. Seahouses...well, she's miles away, but if travelling magically really is so easy for her, why not suggest next Sunday? Invite her for lunch, if she's willing."

"Yes, of course. Brilliant. Where _is_ Seahouses?" I asked.

"Somewhere up north," said Dad, unhelpfully.

"Northumberland," said Mum. "Very close to Scotland. Grandfather was from Berwick-upon-Tweed, originally, but none of the family's lived there in years. Seahouses is just a little further down the coast."

I went to bed that night feeling decidedly pleased with myself. It felt good not just to sit at home twiddling my thumbs while Juliet did all the legwork. And I was so curious to meet Aunt Ada...she sounded sweet, though more than a little sad and wistful. It made me glad, at least, that I wasn't like Thomas and Kathleen, too fearful and suspicious to have anything more to do with their sister. That would _never_ happen to me and Juliet. But as for magic not being important...I couldn't swallow that. She was probably just trying to make me feel better, and if I could get her on her own next week I had more than a few questions to ask.

It was hard to sleep that night. I was looking forward to Artemis arriving from Hogwarts even more than usual, now that I had actual news and not just an unconfirmed hope to share with Juliet. And I was still hugging the secret of our surprise trip to Scotland close to myself. With so much to look forward to this term, it was nothing like the beginning of the last.

* * *

My good mood lasted all through Monday. At break-time, when I joined the others, Tara immediately commented.

"Hey, kid, what are you looking so pleased about? You're like the cat who got the cream."

I grinned at them all. "I just had a really good weekend, that's all."

"Oh, yeah?" said Lennie, passing on their usual single shared cigarette to Jasmin with a quick glance across the playground to check the supervising teacher was nowhere nearby.

"Mum and Dad have decided we can visit Juliet at her school in Scotland in February," I explained, shyly. I left out the news of finding a long-lost aunt – how could I explain how I'd done it? "She goes to a sort of special school up there for, um, talented children. I didn't think I'd see her 'til Easter."

Jasmin blew out a cloud of cigarette smoke. "Aren't you the cutest," she said, amused. "I hate my sister."

"Oh, no!" I said, horrified. "You don't mean that."

"I do. Cara's a selfish pig. Don't look all wide-eyed at me. I found her cosied up in bed with my boyfriend last year. She used to nick my stuff when we were little and she ain't stopped."

"I- I'm so sorry..."

"Don't be," said Jasmin, shrugging. "I don't have nothin' to do with her now."

"Oi, Ben," said Tara suddenly. "Whassup?

Ben was very quiet, and I saw to my surprise her eyes were wet. Eventually she sniffed and drew her arm across her face. "It's just," she mumbled, "Well, I wish you'd make up with Cara, Jaz. It's not worth it. Even if...I mean...sisters are important, that's all. I wish – I wish I still had mine." She spoke the last bit to the floor, so quietly it took us all a moment to realise what she'd said.

"You don't have a sister," said Tara, confused. "I mean – do you?"

Ben shook her head slowly. "I did. I do. I never said. We - we were split up by Social Services when I was six...Daisy was four."

"But – _why_?"

Ben took a long time to answer, but then the words came out in a rush, as though she'd been wanting to say all this for years. "Because – because we both went into care 'cause Mum broke down when Dad left, you know. Me and Daisy - we were adopted by different people. I lost track of her. I tried to contact Daisy a few times since but I just hit this brick wall...seems I'm not allowed access to her records. I – I don't why... Maybe her new family don't want to be reminded she's not really theirs. Maybe she doesn't want to remember the bad times. I – I just keep hoping she'll contact me, someday."

A shocked silence followed this revelation. Tara gave Ben a cigarette and a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. She took an absentminded drag and handed it back. Tara offered it to me. I shook my head. "Oh, go on, it's only a fag."

I refused again, feeling awkward, and Tara rolled her mascara-lined eyes and sucked on it herself. "You're too good, Jen. Makes the rest of us feel bad smoking in front of you."

I swallowed. Tara had done so much for me, and I sensed her disappointment.

"It's not a big deal," said Jasmin, who was watching me, amused. "Where's your sense of adventure?"

"She's only eleven," said Ben softly, speaking again for the first time since the revelation about her sister. "There's no need, Tara..."

"I started when I was nine," said Tara. "Makes me uncomfortable, you sitting there not joining in. Here, just try it, go on." And she held out the cigarette. Unwillingly, I took it, warm between my fingers and the tip glowing orange.

They started talking between themselves again and I wondered if I could just pass the horrid thing to Ben - who was looking at me anxiously – without anyone noticing. But I realised Tara was watching out of the corner of her eye, and I didn't want her to stop liking me. Bold, brash, tough; she'd still stuck up for me. She'd said I had 'spunk' for fighting Robbie Townsend. What if her good opinion of me drained away? Would I find myself back against the school wall with a spider to my mouth?

I took a short drag on the cigarette, and breathed out hurriedly. Ben took it with a frown and a tiny shake of the head. I knew what she was thinking. I shouldn't force myself to do anything just to stay in the gang. But...I was so much happier now than last term, and I liked these guys. If just one puff a day would give me street cred in Tara's eyes, well, I could live with that.

It seemed to have worked, anyway. When the bell rang and we headed back to the school building, Tara saw me off with a thump on the shoulder. "You're a good kid, Jen," she grinned. "You remind me of me...way back. See ya later."

Ben slipped me a tic-tac before she left, and I sucked on it gratefully before going inside, the mint nearly ridding my mouth of the disgusting taste of smoke.

As I passed through the lobby a new poster on the main notice board caught my eye, nestled between adverts for music lessons, woodworking sessions, netball and badminton clubs. I lingered a moment to read it.

 **SELF-DEFENCE CLASSES: MIXED MARTIAL ARTS**

 _Beginners to Intermediate_

HAVE FUN, BUILD CONFIDENCE, GREAT EXERCISE!

Wednesdays 3.30-4.30, in the Sports Hall

I studied the poster, intrigued. I'd never considered self-defence, but with the memory of my humiliating encounter with Sabrina and Arash still fresh in my mind, it had a certain appeal. As I was making a mental note of the details, to ask Mum and Dad later, there was a sudden tug on my bag. It slipped off my shoulder and I looked round, confused. The lobby was full of students rushing to classes...had one of them bumped into me?

Then I saw the corner of golden foil sticking up out of my bag's side pocket and, momentarily bewildered, tugged out a large bar of milk chocolate that definitely hadn't been there before. It wasn't till I looked more closely, as the lobby emptied, that I saw the note scribbled on it in black felt tip.

 _Sorry about the beetle! Friends? Rob_

Oh, for goodness' sake. Robbie Townsend again. I thought I'd made myself clear. He could apologise all he liked, we were _not_ going to be buddies.

"Shouldn't you be getting to class, young lady? No sweets in the corridors, either, please."

I jumped at the sound of the English teacher's voice. "Sorry, Mr Wilson," I said quickly, and hurried away, making sure I dropped the bar of chocolate into the bin on the way. By jogging I made it to my chemistry lesson just as the last person filed in.

I was glad I wasn't late, as Chemistry was easily my favourite class; I took very little interest in my other lessons, which seemed dull as ditchwater when I heard what Juliet was doing at Hogwarts. But some of the stuff we did in Chemistry was about as close to magic as I could get. I loved the practical lessons. We'd burned bits of magnesium to create brilliant white flames and made black ink separate into fabulous streaks of colour on strips of paper hanging in liquid. Today's lesson was the best yet. Mr Wright had set up a glass screen, behind which he dropped slices of lithium, sodium and potassium into water with increasingly spectacular effect. We all cheered when the potassium exploded over the surface of the water in a whoosh of gas and flame. I always found the scientific explanations behind the light and smoke in these lessons fascinating, and got top marks quite easily.

My good mood evaporated instantly, though, when after school Robbie Townsend caught up with me before I got on my bus.

"Hey, Belstone! Did you get my present? Forgive and forget, yeah?"

I ground my teeth, turning to face him.

"My name's _Jennifer_ ," I said, haughtily. "I threw it away. Leave me alone, won't you?"

And I got on the bus, ignoring Robbie's hurt expression. I heard him say behind me, "There's no need to be like that."

To my annoyance, when I climbed up to the top of the bus it was to find Robbie had followed me up the stairs, tucking his bus ticket into his shirt pocket.

"What are you doing?" I hissed, outraged. "This isn't your bus."

"I can get this bus," he shrugged, sitting down adjacent to me. "I can get off at Hartwell. It just means a slightly longer walk than if I get the number forty-two."

I seethed silently, then dug in my bag for my phone so I wouldn't have to look at him.

"Hey, cute phone."

I ignored this and opened up the games folder.

"Oh, I love that game! Have you got to the level where –"

"Leave. Me. Alone!"

"Actually, I know an even better one, you'd like it. It's called _..."_

It was useless. He was like a super-irritating mosquito, buzzing around my head, impossible to ignore.

"Why are you so desperate to be friends all of a sudden?" I said in exasperation, looking up from my phone. "You weren't last term!"

"That was before you hit me. You knocked sense into me. Literally!" He mimed punching himself in the eye and waking up with a shake of the head, wide-eyed.

That almost made me laugh, but I restrained myself.

"So while you thought I was a pathetic weedy little kid you were happy to pick on me, but not since you found out I can punch back."

Robbie flushed. "I didn't pick on you much," he said defensively. "Yeah, okay, I did put a beetle down your neck," he admitted when I raised my eyebrows. "But it was Sabrina who did the lunchbox. _And,_ and, she found the beetle, right. She has a bit of a weird thing about bugs and things, actually..."

"Yeah, I know," I said, with feeling.

"Sandy Meadows did the brown paint on the chair. And she wrote the note we – okay, _I_ – stuck on your back."

"So you're basically saying the others masterminded everything and you just did what you were told."

"Er...yeah. Sounds about right. But I've seen the error of my ways!" He gave me a wide smile that I didn't return.

"Well, that's good to know," I said sarcastically, as the bus pulled up to my stop and I rose from my seat. "Now at least next time you see a little kid by herself, maybe you won't make her life a misery. Bye."

"Aw, c'mon..."

Deliberately feigning deafness, I got off the bus and walked quickly home in the gathering darkness. At least Robbie's bus stop was further on, so he couldn't get off and find out where I lived. What a cheek!

When I broached the subject of self-defence classes that evening, Mum and Dad readily agreed: glad to see I was taking an interest in school activities, and, no doubt, hoping I would make some friends there. I'd not mentioned Tara and the gang to them yet, as I was fairly sure they wouldn't approve of me hanging around with much older students. Dad did wonder out loud why I couldn't pick something more ladylike, like violin lessons.

"You're so old-fashioned, Dad."

"I think self-defence would be very useful to know, particularly nowadays," said Mum. "Oh, Artemis is back, darling. I heard her screech just now."

"Oh, brilliant!"

I dashed upstairs straightaway; I'd been dying to tell Juliet all about Aunt Ada. Eagerly, I read her letter.

 _Hi Jen!_

 _Is Apollo back yet? I'm dying to know where you've sent him! Did you find a witch or wizard online who can help us, or something? Be careful if so, I don't trust the Internet after Stonehenge...anyway, tell me what you're planning!_

 _Professor Vector told me Knarls aren't much different to hedgehogs, but their quills have magical properties and are useful in potions. Oh, and they attack you if you offer them milk._

 _I had another run-in with the Scamander twins yesterday. I bump into them all the time and they always want to know why I have such a problem with them. Huh! I hate them._

 _Juliet  
xx_

I'd have to let Artemis rest before taking my letter back to Hogwarts: she could go first thing in the morning. I got my reply ready, telling Juliet all the news about Aunt Ada.

 _...and I figured she might be a good person to ask about magic as you can't risk asking teachers. Where it comes from, if it can be created, if Muggles have ever been turned magical before. As she's family even if she twigs why we're asking, I'm sure she wouldn't report us!_

 _Everything's okay at school, mostly. We had a very cool Chemistry lesson. I did smoke a bit at break today, which I didn't like, but it helped me fit in with everyone...and it was just the teeniest bit. Oh, and I'm starting self-defence classes soon!_

I was interrupted by a flurry and chorus of happy hoots and chirps as Apollo came soaring through the window to land next to Artemis on the bookcase. Stroking his head fondly, I pulled another violet envelope from his leg. After reading the reply quickly, I grinned and added a postscript to my letter.

 _Aunt Ada has just replied. She's coming for Sunday lunch!_


	16. Aunt Ada's Visit

_January, 2019_

Jennifer

After school on Wednesday I went to the Sports Hall for the first Self-Defence class, feeling nervous but determined. I'd probably be hopeless; but that feeling of powerlessness when Sandy and Sabrina's gang had me at their mercy was something I'd really hated. If I couldn't protect myself with a wand – not _yet_ , anyway – I could at least use my fists and feet.

Only a dozen students were gathered in the Hall. There was only one person I recognised: a girl called Ellie Hopkins who was in my class, although we'd never spoken. The only two Year Sevens there, we shared a quick, curious glance.

A woman with fair hair tied back in a ponytail was flipping through a clipboard. She was slightly built, not much bigger than me, which surprised me. I had for some reason been picturing a large, burly male trainer; but looking more closely, I saw she had a wiry look, like a cat, and moved with a natural agility and assurance.

"Welcome to Self-Defence, all," she said after jotting down our names. "I'm Kate, _don't_ call me 'Miss'. Now, what does Self-Defence bring to mind? Cool moves? Karate-chopping assailants in the street? Judo-flipping people you see snatching old ladies' handbags?"

There was an embarrassed silence.

"Well, let me just destroy that notion now," said Kate cheerfully. "Real life isn't a Jackie Chan film. I'm here to teach you practical moves from various disciplines which are actually useful, although, of course, let's hope you never seriously need them. Right then. Let's pair up. We're going to start with something simple but useful: how to block punches. Come, come, grab a partner, don't be shy!"

I glanced at Ellie Hopkins, who was already making her way towards me. "Hi," she said. "Mind if we...?"

"Yeah, sure," I said, happy that I didn't have to ask.

While everyone else paired up, Ellie said curiously, "Don't you usually hang around with Year Tens? I've seen you smoking with them at lunch..."

"Oh – um, well –"

"Right, let's get started," cried Kate, and we broke off. "Stand this far away from your partner and face each other!"

The class turned out to be great fun; there was a lot of giggling when punches went astray or were accidentally too effective, and several times someone lost their footing, tumbling onto the squashy mats. Kate bounced around, encouraging us all, giving tips, pulling us back to our feet. Slowly we got less scrappy and more confident, and I was sorry to hear Kate's whistle signifying the end of class.

"Great work, everyone," said Kate, smiling widely at us. "Same time next week!"

Ellie and I left the Sports Hall together, picking up the conversation we'd started earlier.

"I don't really smoke," I told her as we made our way to the school gates. "Just a bit, 'cause the others do."

"Oh. Well, why don't you hang out with people in our year instead of older kids?" asked Ellie. "And you know Robbie Townsend in Year Nine totally fancies you, right?"

I went scarlet, and said stiffly, "He does not! He's a jerk."

"Well, I don't know about that but he definitely does," said Ellie. " _Everyone's_ noticed him following you around, and haven't you seen the toilets?"

"Yeah, I can't shake him off, and – wait – what about the toilets?"

"There's a heart inside one of the doors with your names in the middle. It appeared yesterday, I think."

My hand flew to my mouth; I was speechless with horror. Eventually I choked out, "Wait – Robbie Townsend went into the _girls' toilets_ to put a _love heart_ on the door?"

Ellie laughed at the look on my face. "Well, what's wrong with that? He's hot. And I know he's pretty smart, even if he goofs around. He's friends with my brother..."

"He is _not_ hot! He is – he's – _urgh_!" I shuddered and stopped walking. "I'm going to scrub that off right now before the school closes up. I'll see you tomorrow, I guess?"

"Yeah, see you," she said, flashing me a friendly smile, and walked on. I looked after her for a moment, savouring the strange situation. I was so quiet at the beginning, everyone in class had left me alone while they formed into friendship groups. Ellie hung out with a bunch of others already but I sensed that she liked me. Maybe it wasn't too late to make friends in my own year.

I hurried through the empty corridors to the toilets and found the offending item on one cubicle door immediately, clear and fresh, standing out from the other students' graffiti: a heart scrawled in dark blue pen, enclosing both our names. I scowled. It made me feel unclean. I mean, yuck! Robbie Townsend! Not that I even thought about boys at all, apart from how noisy and gross the ones in my class were, farting and mucking around all the time. Let alone Robbie, who'd made my life a misery. He'd been joining me on the bus every day, deaf to my waspish remarks and increasingly annoyed demands to be left alone.

To my immense irritation, scrubbing the heart with the weak hand soap and toilet tissue didn't even smudge it; he'd used a permanent marker. Soon I gave up, making a mental note to bring in one of my own to scribble it out in the morning.

As it happened, my problems were over by Friday afternoon, when Robbie – surprise, surprise – jumped on my bus again.

"All right, Jen? Good week? What're you up to this weekend? I'm off to the moor with some mates. D'you like geocaching? We're going geocaching."

Still rankling from the embarrassment of the toilet-door heart, and driven crazy by his verbal diarrhoea, this time I snapped out of my silence.

"What the hell is geocaching?"

Robbie grinned, clearly pleased to have provoked me into speaking. "It's great. People hide stuff, right, in little boxes outdoors, and you track them down with GPSs – then you add your name in the box, and –"

For goodness' sake. I thought Robbie would be into non-weirdo stuff like football. I interrupted. "I don't actually _care_ what it is, Robbie!"

"Nah, you'd like it, Jen. Hey, you can come out with us if you like – I'll show you what to do –"

That was the final straw.

"I am NOT going geo...thingy with you, Robbie!" I snapped, my voice louder and more aggressive with every syllable. "Get this into your stupid, fat head: I am not doing anything with you, EVER, so _just_ _leave me alone!_ I don't want to go out with you, I don't even want to _look_ at you, and I _don't want to share a bus with you every day!_ "

There was a ringing silence, during which I became very aware of the three other passengers on the top deck who were carefully looking anywhere but at us. One of them coughed.

Robbie had stopped smiling. He gave me a long look, and then slowly got up.

"I see," he said coolly. "Well, goodbye, Belstone. See you around."

And he got off the bus at the next stop. I watched him trudge away – God knew how far he had to walk from there – feeling grimly satisfied.

* * *

Mum and I spent Saturday getting everything ready for Aunt Ada's visit. I could tell Mum felt guilty about how her family had previously treated her great-aunt, so she was determined to give her a warm welcome. Dad seemed somewhat alarmed at all the elaborate preparations, but obediently scrubbed his tea-stain out of the carpet and went round with the vacuum, while Mum and I went food shopping, put fresh flowers in all the vases, and baked a huge apple and blackberry crumble. "All my family love apple crumble with custard," Mum had told me. "It's a Dibbs weakness...if she's anything like the rest of us..."

When Sunday finally came, Mum put a juicy leg of lamb dotted with rosemary into the oven mid-morning to roast slowly. I sniffed the air regularly in anticipation. By midday the rich, herb-infused meaty smell had penetrated every corner of the house, Mum was shaking fat chunks of potato, parsnip and carrot in a roasting tin to coat them with oil, and Dad was shooting longing looks at the oven whenever he went past the kitchen.

"So is she going to Apparate directly _into_ the house?" he asked me. Juliet had explained Apparating to me, and I'd passed it onto Dad, who found the idea fascinating.

"Er – I have no idea," I said. "She didn't say..."

"Hmm. I suppose she could pop out of nowhere, any second now."

After Dad put this idea into our heads we were all slightly jumpy, but shortly before she was due to arrive, Mum called desperately for me to give her a hand with lunch, which left less time for such wonderings.

"Thanks, Jennifer," Mum said, distractedly whisking the gravy whilst thrusting a broccoli at me with the other hand. "Wash that for me, please!"

 _Brr-rrring!_

I dropped the broccoli into the sink with a wet thud when the doorbell rang. "She's here!" I yelled, and ran out of the kitchen, wiping my wet hands on my jeans. My heart beat fast in my chest as I opened the front door.

The witch on the doorstep – who was dressed in lilac robes under a soft grey coat, and clutching both a small purple handbag and an owl in a cage – was instantly recognisable from her cloud of fine white hair. It was just like in the wedding photographs many years before. Her eyes had a wide, wistful look, and she smiled hesitantly upon seeing me. Suddenly, I felt shy too.

"Hello," I said bashfully, standing aside to let her in. It was weird to think we'd already corresponded twice but never met. "Er - come in."

"Hello, my dear," said the witch in a voice that was more like a sigh as she entered the hallway. "You must be Jennifer. I'm - I'm Aunt Ada!" I nodded, unable to take my eyes off this old witch – my great- _great-_ aunt! Considering her age, she was much younger-looking than I had expected.

"Oh, hello!" said Mum breathlessly, appearing at my shoulder, and I heard Dad's footsteps behind us in the hall.

Aunt Ada shifted the owl cage and bag to her left arm so she could shake hands with them both, which she did very tentatively.

"Fiona...and Peter, is it? I hope you don't mind me bringing Patty," she said, nodding at the owl cage, "but you see she's not used to me going out all day and I, um, didn't want her to get lonely. I don't think she enjoyed the journey, though...I, um, Apparated into the little wood behind your road...Patty's never Apparated a long way before. It's, um, well, rather a peculiar sensation when you're not used to it."

The owl – an old snowy with rather messy feathers – gave a disgruntled squawk which made us all laugh. I was already getting over my initial shyness, and took Aunt Ada's coat from her. It was very soft, with the faint scent of lavender perfume.

"D'you want me to put Patty in my bedroom with Apollo?" I asked. "They've already met."

"Thank you, my dear – that would be most kind..."

When, a couple of minutes later, I joined them in the kitchen, I saw to my horror that Aunt Ada had tears in her eyes as she surveyed the room.

"Aunt Ada! What's wrong?"

Mum and Dad looked horror-struck to see Aunt Ada wiping her eyes on a handkerchief embroidered with little purple flowers. "Oh, I'm so sorry, everyone...it's just – I didn't, um, expect you to go to all this effort...just for me. And it's, well, _so_ lovely – to meet you all..."

"Oh, don't be silly, it's no effort!" said Mum. "We're delighted to meet you, too, after all these years."

However, this only caused Aunt Ada to well up again, so Mum quickly changed the subject. "Actually, we've met before – at my grandfather's funeral – briefly, you know?"

Aunt Ada looked startled. "Did we really?"

"Just before you left," said Mum. "I think you were in a hurry to go. I saw you Apparate away."

"I – I'm so sorry, my dear, I don't remember. I was terribly nervous that day. I wanted to be there, to pay my respects to Thomas, but Kath had made it clear she didn't want me to come, and, um, whenever we met she used to say...such terrible things...so I hurried off."

"Oh, it's no matter," said Mum hastily, tipping crispy golden potatoes into a hot serving dish. "None at all...oh, Peter, carve the lamb, would you?"

"Is it a generational thing?" asked Dad, as he hunted for the carving knife. "I mean, obviously witchcraft in Britain was feared terribly in medieval times...but now there are magic kids from normal families going to Hogwarts all the time. Perhaps one day it'll all be out in the open and no one will care less."

But Aunt Ada shook her head. "Oh no, there's still a great deal of, um, prejudice out there," she said softly. "We have to hide or we'd find ourselves facing medieval witch-hunts again very shortly. Muggles tend to hate what they can't understand, and when we are accidentally exposed, terror always reigns for the few hours it takes for the Ministry's memory-modifiers to sort out the problem."

"Memory-modifiers?" asked Dad, fumbling with the knife and nearly slicing through his finger. "You're not serious?"

"Oh, completely. What other choice is there?"

Dad, finishing carving, struggled to take this in. "So – so you're saying I could have witnessed a major magical catastrophe myself, and had my memory wiped so I'd have no recollection at all?"

"It's possible, yes. Things happen all the time. Why, just last week a dragon torched a row of beach huts at Skegness...a Hebridean Black, goodness knows what it was doing flying that far south...luckily no one was in them due to the time of year."

Aunt Ada laughed to see the shocked look on Dad's face. I could see her warming to us all; she was already less hesitant. "But there were plenty of Muggles strolling along the seafront. It caused pandemonium...took the entire department a whole day to sort out the mess."

Dad blinked, very fast, and swallowed. "Right then," was all he managed.

"Oh, _Fiona..."_

Mum had brought over the beautifully-carved lamb, swimming in its own fragrant juices and steaming gently. My mouth watered just looking at it.

To my delight, Aunt Ada chattered away through lunch, answering Dad's many questions about the wizarding world. Her remaining shyness was noticeably dropping away as she told us about her time at Hogwarts, her favourite classes, her career after she left: apparently she had worked at the Ministry, in the Department of International Magical Co-operation ("just a desk job, nothing exciting, dears"). Soon it felt as though we'd always known each other and I couldn't help giving her a little secret smile which she returned.

When the last scraps of meat and gravy were cleared from our plates Mum served scoops of the apple and blackberry crumble we'd made yesterday, its dark, juicy filling spilling out under the buttery golden topping. "Oh, my!" was all Aunt Ada could say when she saw it and the jug brimful of thick custard. "Oh, _my!_ "

"This is amazing, Mum," I agreed, digging in enthusiastically. "Best lunch _ever_."

Dad, at my side, munched through his crumble portion in silent bliss.

"Well," Aunt Ada sighed at the end of the meal. "I honestly can't remember the last time I ate like that. Thank you..."

Mum went a little pink with pleasure. "Oh, it was no trouble."

"Oh," said Aunt Ada suddenly. "How could I forget. I brought you something!" She reached for her handbag.

"Oh, you didn't need to –" started Mum, but Aunt Ada waved her protest away.

"It's nothing, dear. I just thought you might all like a little something...magical...around the house."

All three of us stared at her, not daring to believe what she had just said.

"Don't get too excited," Aunt Ada said hurriedly, still digging around in her bag – considering it was a very small bag she seemed to be having trouble finding anything in it. "I just thought you'd find them useful. Oh, here we are."

To our great surprise she pulled out a squashed-looking pot plant which was far larger than the bag itself. I glanced at Dad, grinning: yes, he looked as delighted as a small boy who had just seen a magician pull a rabbit out of a hat.

"This is for you, Fiona, dear," said Aunt Ada, handing her the plant, which was a rather ugly-looking thing with no flowers and thick, waxy leaves. "It's called Dittany...it's a powerful magical restorative. If you have a bad cut, or burn, crush one of the leaves and apply the juice. It works on Muggles just as well as witches and wizards..."

Mum took the plant, stammering her thanks, but Aunt Ada was already rummaging in her bag again. "Oh, and I thought you might like this, Peter...it was given to me years ago, and was rather useful then, but nowadays my days are so predictable I think it would be better in another's hands..."

Dad took the pocket-watch Aunt Ada handed him with boyish excitement, hands trembling. It looked perfectly ordinary, but when Dad opened it, in addition to showing the hours and minutes it squeaked, " _Time to water the pungous onions!_ " Dad beamed, then blinked and said, "Pardon?"

"Oh, don't worry about that," smiled Aunt Ada. "It's still used to me and my ways. But it'll adapt to your home and habits. It reminds you to do useful jobs and also tells you when it's a good time to sit down and have a cup of tea and a biscuit..."

"Excellent..." Dad breathed, opening and shutting it again. Cheerfully, it squeaked, _"Time to wash the dishes!_ "

Everyone laughed as Dad looked in dismay at the mound of gravy- and custard-covered plates, pots and pans. "Hmm...it'll have to learn what a dishwasher is!" he said, but good-humouredly started to load the dishwasher anyway.

"Is that a Muggle washing device for dirty dishes? Oh, don't worry about that..." said Aunt Ada, pulling out a wand and waving it. " _Scourgify!_ "

The pots, pans and piles of plates were suddenly all sparkling clean. Dad emitted a squeak just like his new pocket watch and said, "Oh, I _really_ wish I could do that."

Aunt Ada was rummaging in her bag again. I tingled with anticipation. What treat did she have in store for me?

"Here we are, dear. I racked my brains for a while thinking what you would like most. And knowing how close you are to your sister...and how painful it is to be apart...I thought you would both find these useful." She held out two ordinary-looking small cotton bags with string ties.

"Oh – um, thanks," I said, a little confused.

"Bewitched, so they and anything inside is as light as air, and they hold far more than they would appear to," said Aunt Ada. "Lots of kids at Hogwarts will have them, they've always been popular. Hogwarts is so far away, you know, and the terms are very long, the students miss home and their own things...parents used to send cakes sometimes, and books and so on. I just thought it would be a nice way to supplement your letters..."

"Oh, Aunt Ada, thank you!" I said, delighted. "Juliet can send me some pumpkin pasties and cauldron cakes, they're too heavy for Artemis so I've never tried them...and I can send her the book I'm reading when I'm finished...and her fluffy dressing gown because the Ravenclaw tower is so cold!"

"I'm so glad you like them," said Aunt Ada, her eyes twinkling.

My unexpected present gave me an idea for getting Aunt Ada on her own – something I'd been wondering how to do since she arrived.

"Do you want to come and test the bags with me, Aunt Ada?" I said, with a quick glance at Mum and Dad. "Apollo's in my bedroom. We could send something to Juliet together."

"Go and have fun, you two," said Dad. "We'll put away the plates and things."

Aware of Aunt Ada's great age, I started climbing the stairs slowly, expecting her to creak her way up them like my grandma used to. However, to my great surprise, she pattered nimbly up to the landing, and looked down in surprise to see me lagging behind.

"Wow," I said, catching up. "You're nothing like my grandma was and you must be older than she was when she died."

I clapped my hand to my mouth in horror as soon as I'd said this. "I'm so sorry –" I blurted out, appalled at my tactlessness. What on earth had made me say that? I wanted to sink into the floor; but to my relief, I saw Aunt Ada was laughing.

"That's all right, sweetheart. And yes, I would seem different to your grandmother even at my age, witches and wizards live much longer than Muggles. I reckon I've got a good few years left in me," she finished cheerfully, unaware that I had stopped in my tracks, utterly appalled.

"Which is your bedroom, Jennifer?" said Aunt Ada, looking round after a couple of seconds; when she saw me, her mouth fell open and I knew she'd realised her mistake. "Oh, no...oh, darling...of all the stupid, _stupid_ things for me to say!"

When I spoke, my voice sounded distant and strange to my ears. "You mean," I whispered, feeling as though my insides had just been brutally gutted, "Juliet is going to live years and years longer than me? By herself?"

Unable to bear the thought, my face crumpled and Aunt Ada hurried over, enfolding me in her arms. I felt her patting my back while I breathed in her faint lavender scent, trying to get a grip on myself. Eventually I emerged, jaw clenched. This knowledge had just made what I had been intending to ask my great-great-aunt even more pertinent. I breathed deeply and led Aunt Ada to my room, where we each sat on a bed. She was still looking at me, terribly concerned. "I'm –I'm so sorry, Jennifer," she said. "I didn't mean to spring that on you like that..."

"Aunt Ada," I said tremulously. I'd spent hours thinking of subtle ways to put this question to her, but now, after this revelation, I was too upset for going all round the houses.

"Yes, my dear?"

"Where – where does magic come from?"

Aunt Ada looked surprised. "Why do you ask such a thing?"

"It's just... _why_ is Juliet a witch and not me?" I said desperately. "McGonagall said there's no scientific explanation...but you see, _everything_ I know can be explained by science. Stuff that seems strange and mysterious is always just chemistry, or physics, or biology. So I just keep thinking, _why_ are some people magic? Where did it all come from? Are we different species, or what? Are our atoms non-identical? Am I – am I really even Juliet's twin?"

The questions tumbled out in a rush, just a few of the things I'd been agonising over in the last few months...as I said them I felt a mix of relief at letting them out, and terrible anxiety about what I might hear. Aunt Ada was looking at me, sympathy in every line of her kind and wistful face.

"Oh, my dear," she said. "You are...just like I was when I was sent to Hogwarts...so full of questions..."


	17. Prince Bardiya and the Djinn

_January, 2019._

Jennifer

"So...why?" I asked again. "Why Juliet and not me?"

Aunt Ada looked at me with her wistful eyes. "And why me, and not Thomas, or Kathleen?" she said quietly. "Jennifer, I wondered too. I looked in books, and I asked my Head of House at Hogwarts, Professor Flitwick he was called. All he could tell me was – ah, now, you see I left Muggle school at eleven, so I didn't really understand. It was to do with – with well, I think it was the same word as those trousers you're wearing."

I looked down in confusion. "Jeans?"

"Yes – yes. Um – domineering jeans, I think."

After a long moment in which I stared at Aunt Ada thinking that she had gone completely mad, something clicked in my brain. We'd done this at school recently. "Oh. Dominant genes?"

"You clever girl. Yes...it means that when wizards and witches marry Muggles, they _usually_ have magical children...but sometimes, when already weakened by Muggle blood in earlier generations, the result is a Squib. You might be a Squib, my dear, rather than a pure Muggle. Squibs can't do magic, but they can still pass it on to later generations. There is a thin thread of magic running through the whole Dibbs line...but so diluted with Muggle blood that it has only surfaced in me and Juliet, in over four generations."

"But –" and I frowned "– that still doesn't explain me and Juliet. We started out as the same cell. I guess maybe after we split, Juliet's magical gene developed and mine just...didn't bother." I tried to keep the note of bitterness out of my voice, but could see from the pitying look on Aunt Ada's face that I hadn't succeeded.

I pulled myself together and continued. "But then, where did magic come from _originally_ and why don't we all have it? Did witches and wizards just evolve one way while humans went another? We've been learning about evolution at school...but, if it's survival of the fittest, right, with all the extra powers wizards and witches have, wouldn't Muggles have died out a million years ago?"

Aunt Ada was shaking her head, bewildered. "Oh, Jennifer, I don't understand any of this. Magic is _different_. It has its own rules and I just don't think it conforms to the things you learn about at school."

I kicked my feet moodily. "Yeah, McGonagall said the same thing. I just – I hate not knowing."

"Well," said Aunt Ada gently, "I'm sorry that I'm no good with this, um, science stuff. But if it helps, I _can_ answer your question about where magic comes from originally."

I looked up at her quickly. I'd imagined all sorts of answers to this question. If the source of the raw stuff, whatever it was, still existed, well...maybe we could find it.

My great-great-aunt was looking at me curiously. "But if you've been wondering, I'm surprised you didn't just ask Juliet. She could have found out for you in an instant."

I gaped at her. "What? I _did_ ask Juliet. She's read her way through half the Hogwarts Library and found _nothing_!"

Aunt Ada frowned. "The Library? Well, it'll be referenced in some History of Magic books, I expect – but the story's so well known, it's just a given... _any_ witch or wizard in Juliet's year who isn't Muggle-born knows where magic came from. It's the most famous fairy-tale in the wizarding world! But it's rooted in truth, you know."

I felt my stomach sink. "Juliet doesn't really talk to her classmates."

A short pause, then a flicker of understanding in Aunt Ada's eyes. "I see. Well...maybe I'm not the best person to tell this to you, as I wasn't raised on it myself. But I do know the story...I used to help look after my friend Seppy's children sometimes, and read it to them. I've got the book at home, somewhere."

" _Please_ tell me."

"Of course I will, my dear. Let me think, now. Well, it all started in the Middle East, in Iran, although then it was known as Persia...the story began, oh, thousands of years ago, in a desert there. It's a place of terribly ancient magic..."

I was transfixed. "Go on," I urged.

Aunt Ada looked thoughtful. "Well, now, you probably haven't heard of the Djinn, have you?"

Frowning, I shook my head.

"They're also known as Genies..."

"Oh, I know Genies!" I interrupted, immediately thinking of the friendly blue Genie from _Aladdin._ "You rub a lamp and one pops out, then you get three wishes! No way, are they actually real?"

Aunt Ada looked bewildered. "Why would you rub a lamp?"

"Oh...right...never mind."

"The Djinn are certainly real," said Aunt Ada. "Although relatively little is known about them. Wizards keep well away, for good reason, as you'll see... They live deep in the deserts of the Middle East, and they are an ancient race of very powerful demons. Now, what was that you said about getting three wishes?"

"Er – the genie in the story I know has to give three wishes to whoever finds him."

Aunt Ada looked thoughtful. "Hmm. Some trace of the legend has crept into Muggle fairy-tale, I see. The Djinn do have the power to grant wishes, although they will only do this when they stand to gain from it themselves. They are traders, you see. They do deals. Now, the legend goes that one day, a young Prince..."

" _Jennifer! Are you two okay up there?_ "

Mum's voice floated up the stairs, and Aunt Ada broke off, looking guilty. "Oh, goodness," she said, jumping up off the bed. "We've been up here for ever so long! Your mother and father will think I'm terribly rude. We must go down and join them."

"Oh, but –"

"I'll finish the story another time," said Aunt Ada. "I promise."

Frustrated, I followed her downstairs. We spent the rest of the afternoon playing games of cards in the lounge. It transpired that Aunt Ada had loved Muggle card games as a child, but they were unknown in the wizarding world. She knew lots of games, and although she'd not played in nearly ninety years, hadn't forgotten the rules at all. She beat us several times, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

"I've had the most _wonderful_ day," she said at last, as dusk started to fall outside. "I should really be getting home. But thank you so much for having me..."

"You must come often," Mum said. "Any time."

"And if you want to meet Juliet," I put in, quickly, "you can visit us in Scotland in February. We're going up to Fort William for a week to surprise her."

"I'd love that," said Aunt Ada, beaming. "Now, I must be going. I'll just go and get Patty from upstairs before I Apparate back...gosh, she'll be cross..."

After Aunt Ada had gone, I withdrew to my bedroom to write to Juliet, still disappointed that I'd not had time to hear the whole story about the Djinn. I'll admit, I was a little peeved. At Hogwarts since September, and she could've heard the story from practically any of her classmates if she'd just _asked!_ Eventually, I just told her what I'd heard so far and asked her if she could find out the rest. Then I poked her fluffy dressing gown and slippers into Aunt Ada's little magical bag, as well as my letter and Juliet's bag, with a note of explanation. The whole lot was swallowed up easily, and didn't weigh a thing (I had to resist the urge to pull them out and do it again). I sent Apollo off into the night, then went to bed early. But I couldn't sleep. I lay awake, thinking about Aunt Ada's half-finished story, and wondering...

* * *

The next day, Monday, was a pretty good day. My Chemistry homework came back with top marks, and Mr Wright had added a little note: _Excellent, Jennifer. Please see me after class!_ Intrigued, I tried to catch his eye, but he didn't pay me any attention. After a while I realised he was probably trying not to single me out in front of the others, and got on with diluting my hydrochloric acid and measuring out small amounts of zinc, iron and lead. At the end of the lesson, I hung back and looked at Mr Wright expectantly when the last students left the room.

"Um, you wanted to see me, Sir?"

"I did," he said, as he tidied a few forgotten flasks away and wiped down the tables. "Your homework was outstanding. Well beyond Year Seven level. It's been getting more sophisticated all term. I'm surprised you're not bored in this class, Jennifer."

"Oh, no!" I said immediately. "I love this class. It's my favourite."

Mr Wright looked pleased. "Well, in that case I hope you'll be interested in what I'm about to suggest. You're clearly a keen young scientist...why don't you come along to my Chemistry Club after school on Tuesdays? It's generally older students preparing for exams, so there's no one your age, but that shouldn't matter. You'd get to do much more interesting stuff than dissolving zinc in hydrochloric acid –" he waved his hand dismissively "– and you'd learn a lot, I know."

"Wow, I'd love that," I said immediately, with a thrill of pleasure at having been asked. "Yeah, all right!"

"Excellent. See you there tomorrow, then."

I left feeling quite pleased with myself and went to find Tara and the others, who greeted me enthusiastically. It was an enjoyable lunch break. Jasmin wasn't treating me so much like a cute six-year-old nowadays, either: she even asked what I thought about the boy she was dating. And I found myself giggling with the others at Tara and Lennie's – _always_ outrageous – stories about sex, instead of blushing. They all really acted like I was one of them now, and it gave me a warm feeling inside.

After school, Robbie didn't get on my bus. I was relieved and pleased: clearly my outburst had sunk in. But the best part of the day was yet to come. As I turned the corner into my road in the gathering gloom of the winter evening, I glimpsed a movement above me, and looked upwards just in time to see a ghostly white shape soar over the telephone lines and into my open window.

"Patty," I breathed, and quickened my pace. I hurried to my door, fumbling to find my key on the way, and went straight upstairs, yelling "Hi, Mum," in the general direction of the kitchen.

To my surprise, there was a whole cluster of owls on my bookcase! Apollo was back, with Artemis perched next to him, both making affectionate chirping, clicking noises. Patty, looking her usual dishevelled self, was crammed uncomfortably on the far side of the bookcase with a package wrapped in pale purple tissue-paper dangling from her leg.

I relieved her of it quickly and she hooted gratefully before fluttering to Apollo's cage for a drink of water. My fingers tingled as I looked down at the package. What _could_ it be? I hesitated, then laid it down with a small effort, went over to Artemis, and pulled Juliet's letter out of the bag tied to her leg. I'd read that first.

 _Jennifer,_

 _You did so amazingly finding Aunt Ada and asking her that stuff, and all in about a week! I've read so many books trying to find out where magic comes from, I can't believe the answer was in a fairy-tale. There aren't any books for little children in the Hogwarts library._

 _I'm sorry, Jen. I should have started talking to people months ago...finding out who I could trust. Instead I've just got used to being on my own here, Susie and Marion and the others act like I don't exist. I guess it's my own fault._

 _So, stuff the library. I'll find someone to ask about the story, I promise._

 _Love,_

 _Juliet_

 _P.S. Thank you for my dressing gown and slippers, it's so good to be warm! I've sent you something, too. They often have these on the tables at breakfast, though I prefer toast._

I rummaged in the bag again and pulled out a heavy, lumpy package wrapped in brown paper. Inside was a large pasty which I knew must be pumpkin. I smiled and wrapped it up again. I'd have it for lunch tomorrow.

The pale purple package still lay invitingly on my bed, and I picked up it up curiously, feeling it through the thin paper. I had an idea what it might be...and ripped off several layers of tissue until – yes, I was right!

I was holding an old, well-worn picture book. Across the front in curling letters was written:

 _PRINCE BARDIYA AND THE DJINN_

My heart thumped as I studied the picture on the cover, of a young man crossing a vast desert on a camel. The picture was actually moving! I watched as the low sun cast golden rays across his face, which to me looked a little foolish. I slid into the beanbag in the corner of my bedroom – my favourite reading spot – opened the picture book, and read the story from beginning to end.

 _Many thousands of years ago, in The Great Salt Desert in the kingdom of Persia, there lived a handsome Muggle Prince. His name was Bardiya, and he and his people roamed the desert on camels, trading with other nomad tribes when they met. Sometimes they travelled to the City at the edges of the desert where they would barter spices, incense, and gold._

 _Now, Bardiya had been pampered his entire life. He didn't even have to ride a camel, because slaves on foot would carry him in a bed with white cotton sheets and a canopy above to protect his royal skin from the sun. They fanned him with palm leaves, fed him with sugared dates, and brushed away the flies that bothered him. This was the way of life for all princes in The Great Salt Desert and no one thought the worse of him for it._

 _But what no one realised was that by the time the Prince was fifteen, he was terribly bored of doing nothing. He spent his days gazing out at the horizon from his canopied bed, and began to wonder if there wasn't more to life than sugared dates and being carried around..._

 _One night, Prince Bardiya slipped from his bed and stole away on the strongest camel, leaving his people snoring behind him. Terribly pleased with himself, he travelled many miles across the desert that night. He was confident that soon he would reach the City, where surely many adventures awaited._

 _But Bardiya had never had to think for himself before, and consequently he hadn't even thought to pack a saddlebag with a goatskin flask of water, or any food. Nor did he know that the City was in fact many weeks away by camel. The scorching desert sun rose, and soon Bardiya was swooning in his saddle. "Oh," he cried, delirious, "Why did I ever leave my people!_ "

 _But as he fell from his camel, two hands reached up from the desert sands and caught him. He had fallen into the clutches of a female Djinn. She pulled the unconscious Prince into her cave deep under the sand where she tended to him._

 _This Djinn, an ancient and powerful being like all her kind, was named Alijah-nawaz. She was drawn to Bardiya's helplessness. Djinn tended not to show themselves to people, but they are the greatest traders on earth. It is easier to extract goods and services from those who already owe you a debt..._

 _But the pampered Prince, unused to the strain of his recent experience, was in a deep fever and came close to never waking. Alijah-nawaz tended to Bardiya for a week, he tossing and groaning at her feet._

 _During this week, something came about that had never happened before in all this world's history. Alijah-nawaz, who was in fact a Djinn Princess, began to feel affection for the handsome, helpless Prince as she trickled healing potions and water down his parched throat and fanned him with cooling spells. By the time he awoke, the Djinn Princess was fiercely in love._

 _Djinn may be powerful, but they are also terribly ugly, and when Prince Bardiya awoke he was horrified to see the grotesque demon gazing down at him, love-struck._

 _He begged and pleaded to be let go, but Alijah-nawaz would not release him and was adamant that they marry. But the Djinn-Princess, usually as wily as the rest of her kind, was turned foolish by love. She could keep Bardiya here against his will but she was saddened by the thought of a forced and loveless marriage. Determined to make Bardiya love her back, she offered him a deal: anything that was in her power to give him, if he would freely choose to marry her._

 _Bardiya thought for many days and nights. Was there anything she could give him that would make the union acceptable? He considered wagons full of gold, barrels of spices, all the currency that he knew...but deep below the earth in the suffocating cave, gold and spices held no allure. At last the Prince knew what he would ask. There was one thing that could get him out of this terrible hole._

 _And so, one day, Bardiya approached Alijah-nawaz and told her that he would marry her gladly, if she would give him Magic to make him her equal._

 _The Djinn-Princess hesitated, for it was against all the laws of her people. But she was blinded by love and lust; and so at last she agreed._

 _Thus it was that Prince Bardiya became the first wizard, and he married Alijah-nawaz. For several years he lived with the demon below the sands of the Great Salt Desert as her husband, and, believing he truly loved her, the Djinn-Princess fashioned him a wand and began to teach him the magical arts._

 _But Bardiya betrayed her. When he had become skilled in magic, he turned his power against his Djinn-wife. Not bound magically by a deal – for he had only agreed to marry, not to stay forever – he Stunned Alijah-nawaz in her sleep, undid the enchantments which bound the cave's entrance, and flew to freedom on the Princess' own magic carpet._

 _When Alijah-nawaz awoke she screamed for forty days and forty nights in rage to find Bardiya gone, but it was too late._

 _As for Bardiya, he made it to the City, where he met a beautiful Muggle girl named Ida, and they had many children, who were all magical. Today, there are witches and wizards all over the world; and every one can trace their ancestry back to Bardiya, nomad Prince of The Great Salt Desert._


	18. In Ravenclaw Tower

_February, 2019_

Juliet

February must be the dreariest month to be at Hogwarts. The perpetual cold seeped into my bones in classes, the wind howled and rain spattered the windows, and outside the lake was a glassy grey mirror wreathed in dismal mist.

I was eating breakfast absentmindedly, thinking about the picture book which Jennifer had sent me in Apollo's magical leg-bag.

Jennifer reckoned the story was interesting, but really no use to us. Finding the Djinn and asking for magic – which I'd immediately suggested – was, in her opinion, a ridiculous possibility. In fact, she wrote calmly, it wasn't a possibility at all. " _How on earth would we get there and back? We can't just wander around the Iranian deserts! Even if we were adults it'd be crazy. And even if we found one, they sound really dangerous. Forget it, Juliet._ "

Admittedly, Jennifer talked a lot of sense. I didn't push it. But still, I couldn't help wondering...

Today it was a Saturday, and the school was almost completely empty, as there was a Quidditch match on: Ravenclaw against Gryffindor. I'd finally found out what Quidditch was. Everyone got _very_ passionate about it, but it couldn't have interested me less. Once I'd got my balance, I enjoyed swooping about during flying lessons – in nice weather – and pretending I was a bird. But I didn't like going too high or too fast, and would never want to take my hands off the comforting broom handle to grab at flying balls.

I always welcomed the peace inside the castle that came with Quidditch matches; and after breakfast, I made my solitary way back up to Ravenclaw tower, deep in thought about Djinn, and deserts, and deals... But to my surprise the tower was not unoccupied, as it usually was when Ravenclaw were playing. There was one small figure by the fire with a shock of red hair: Hugo Granger-Weasley, his head in a book. He glanced up when I came in, blinking through owlish glasses. Hugo was in all my classes, but I'd never spoken to him before. Come to think of it, he was just as quiet as I was.

"Hi," he said politely, and looked quickly back down at his book, obviously not expecting an answer.

I hesitated. This was the chance to do what I'd done all the rest of the year: retreat to my own corner of the room and do my own thing. But I'd promised Jennifer not to keep doing that, to start talking to some of my fellow students. This opportunity was too obvious to miss.

So, with an effort, I cleared my throat. "Er – hey, Hugo."

He looked up again, surprise all over his freckled face. Evidently I had got myself a reputation. I cast around desperately for something to say.

"So – so you didn't fancy the Quidditch match, either?"

Hugo shook his head, looking guilty. "No, actually I – I really _hate_ Quidditch," he confessed, then put his hand over his mouth as though he'd said something appalling. That made me smile, and after a moment he grinned bashfully back.

"The thing is," he admitted, in a rush, "all my family love it. Well, not Mum so much, but she kind of follows it too because Dad's such a huge fan. And my Auntie played for the Holyhead Harpies! Well, you probably know that," he said, not boastfully, but in a very resigned sort of voice.

I hadn't expected Hugo to be so talkative, and it eased the knot of anxiety in my stomach a little. Tentatively, I sat down on one of the other fireside sofas. "Um, no, I don't."

Hugo looked very taken aback. "But you must have heard of her. Ginny Potter, right?"

I shook my head.

"But – she was one of the fighters in the Battle of Hogwarts. And she's married to Harry Potter." Despite the lack of enthusiasm in his voice, Hugo clearly expected an immediate "oh!" of understanding. I began to feel stupid.

"I've heard of the Battle of Hogwarts. And I'm pretty sure I've heard Harry Potter mentioned. He fought some dark wizard, right?"

"You _are_ kidding?" said Hugo, incredulously.

Oh, honestly. It wasn't my fault if I didn't know all the stuff about the wizarding world everyone else took for granted. "Why would I be kidding?" I said grumpily.

But to my surprise, Hugo's face had broken out in a wide grin. "This is brilliant!" he said, obviously delighted. "I hate everyone knowing about my family! Mum and Dad helped Uncle Harry defeat Lord Voldemort. He was a _massively_ evil wizard who was taking over Britain and killing loads of people. It's rubbish growing up with everyone knowing your parents are heroes. At first the other students were all over me, asking about Mum and Dad and Uncle Harry, you know. But once everyone found out I'm just _me_ , not _them_ , they lost interest."

"Oh...that's really horrible for you," I said, no longer irritated, now that I realised why Hugo had been cross-examining me.

Hugo nodded sadly. "Plus, _all_ my family have been in Gryffindor, but the Sorting Hat reckoned I'd be better in Ravenclaw. Mum doesn't mind, but everyone else...well...it's like the Hat just declared publicly that I wasn't like my family, you know. I did try going to Quidditch matches and stuff, Rose and the others wanted me to go today, but I decided I'm not going to bother anymore."

"Good on you," I said, meaning it. "You should just be yourself."

He beamed at me. "What about you – hang on, I'm sat on something," he said, shifting in his seat and frowning. "Oh, I forgot about these. Want one?" He pulled a squashed packet of Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans from underneath him and offered it to me.

"Er – no, thanks. I had those once before, they're too weird."

"They aren't that bad. You get to know which colours to avoid. It's kind of a puzzle to work out what's good. Try this one, it's probably just caramel."

Warily, remembering the ones I'd eaten on the train, I tasted the golden bean Hugo offered me. After a moment I smiled broadly, recognising the taste as my favourite dessert.

"Better. Sticky toffee pudding!" I said, happily.

"Oh, wow," Hugo said. "That's a really good one. Ooh, I reckon this might be bacon. Yeah, it is!"

" _Bacon?_ " I said, revolted at the thought of a bacon-flavoured sweet, but Hugo grinned as he chewed it.

"What? I like bacon."

"Yeah, but..."

Picking out beans together, we fell into a silence that I slowly realised wasn't at all awkward. It was – well, it was companionable, and easy. Almost as easy as being with Jennifer. I was quietly amazed. Was making friends really this simple? Or was it just Hugo's unassuming frankness?

"So, obviously you're Muggle-born," said Hugo after a bit, "if you haven't heard much about the Battle of Hogwarts and stuff. What's your family like, then?"

He had been so candid with me, that after hesitating a moment, I decided I would tell him – well, maybe not _everything_ , but some of it.

"Well...I'm an identical twin, actually."

"Are you, really? I didn't know. Hey, my Uncle George was – oh, um. Sorry, I interrupted." His ears had gone slightly pink.

"That's okay," I said. "What about your uncle?"

"No, no, it doesn't matter. Really. What's your sister called? What house is she in? Hang on..." Hugo was frowning. "We have joint classes with all the other Houses. She's not at Hogwarts, is she?"

"No, that's right," I said, and I pulled out another bean at random, so I could look into the packet instead of at Hugo. Explaining this hadn't got any easier with time. "Jennifer's not a witch."

Hugo's eyes widened as the implications of this sank in. He had a listening face, and looked so sorry for me, it was almost as though it was _his_ sister I was talking about.

"Oh, no – and you're _twins –_ that's – that's the worst thing I've ever – hey, don't eat _that_ one!"

I spat out the shining black bean into my hand just as the acrid flavour coated my tongue.

"Uh-oh. Tar? Charcoal?"

I threw the bean in the fire where it spat and crackled. "Yeah, one of them...gross..."

"I'm really sorry about your sister," said Hugo quietly, after a pause. I gave him a small smile. Somehow sharing the situation with someone so sympathetic made it slightly better. I hesitated. Hugo seemed a nice kid. There was no reason for him to go running to a teacher, was there?

"Can I – can I tell you a secret? You mustn't tell _anyone_ , though."

"Of course, I'm good at keeping secrets," said Hugo promptly. "Cross my heart and hope to die, Manticores mangle me if I lie."

"Er – okay. Well, I'm trying to find out a way to make Jennifer magic, too. So she can come to Hogwarts."

Hugo stared at me, so astonished he didn't say anything for ages. Eventually he stammered, "But – there's no way to do that, is there?"

"That's what I'm trying to find out," I said, defensively. "You can basically do _everything_ with magic. Why not that?"

"Because – because – I've just never heard of that being a thing, that's all. And I grew up in a wizarding family. I don't mean to be horrible," he said hastily. "I just don't think it's possible. You get Squibs in all wizarding families. They always stay Squibs...it's disappointing, but people just accept it..."

"Well, I don't," I retorted fiercely, and Hugo flinched. "Sorry," I said eventually. "I didn't mean...I just don't see why everyone _should_ just accept it, that's all. New spells are being discovered all the time, right? I've seen books in the library about recent discoveries...maybe it's difficult, maybe hardly anyone knows how to do it, maybe it's _never even been done before_. But Jennifer ought to be a witch, if I am, 'cause we're twins, and it's just wrong. More wrong than for just any old Squib! So I'm going to keep looking 'til I find a way."

"Well, then," Hugo said, after a thoughtful pause. "Good on you. I'll let you know, if I hear anything useful."

"Oh – cool – thanks..." Well. Turns out, telling someone wasn't all that bad after all.

"I've got to do my Charms homework," said Hugo, reaching for his schoolbag, which was next to his sofa, and pulling out some parchment. "Want to do it together?"

"Yeah, okay...why not."

Professor Bell had asked us for two feet of parchment on the different uses of Water-Manipulation Charms. Well, there were loads of cool things you could do with water and a wand. Freeze it, turn it to steam, dry it up, increase a trickle to a flood, make stuff repel it, and so on. It would be an interesting essay to write. Our last lesson had mostly focused on flow control. We'd each been given a sink with several plugholes and a tap suspended behind the holes, and we'd had to magically nudge the stream of water into the correct hole.

"The essay's no problem," said Hugo, scratching away easily with his quill. "But last lesson was impossible. I'm only good at theory in Charms, really. It's my worst subject."

Come to think of it, I had noticed Hugo often having minor disasters in Charms. "Didn't you get – er – quite wet, last lesson?"

"Yeah...I was aiming for one of the plugholes and the tap sprayed all over me. Phwhooosh." He gestured expressively with his arms.

"Hmm..." I said. "You must have been too – _jabby_ – with your wand. You have to be gentle. Look, try it with this."

I brought over one of the jugs of water and a few glasses from the tray that was always on the windowsill of the Common Room. "I'll pour, and you can practise. Aim for the one on the left...just a little nudge over that way...gently...whoops!"

Hugo had muttered the spell and jerked his wand to the left, causing the water to shoot violently in several directions. Everything, including both of us and Hugo's just-started essay, got soaked, and I righted the jug hastily.

"Never mind," I said, performing a useful charm I'd come across in _The Standard Books of Spells, Grade Three_ , which I'd borrowed from the library. It made hot air stream out of the tip of my wand, and I started quickly drying things. "Er, yeah, it's definitely the way you're moving your wand. It's just a bit...um..."

I hesitated. How did you tell someone tactfully that they performed charms like a robot on steroids? He had the jerkiest wand movements I'd ever seen, and screwed up his face in intense concentration when he said the incantation.

"You're just trying too hard," I said eventually. "You need to relax and not stiffen your arm like that. Just a little, smooth _flick_!" I demonstrated.

Hugo sighed. "You make it look so easy."

"Go on, have another go," I said encouragingly. "Deep breath first. Keep your arm loose..."

Hugo got slightly better at the Charm over the next twenty minutes. I chatted to him as we practised, partly to stop him tensing up with concentration, but also because I was curious.

"Hey, I'm not going to, you know, judge you on your parents, but what exactly _was_ the Battle of Hogwarts all about? Obviously it's something I ought to know."

Hugo only overshot the glass by a couple of inches this time, and looked quite pleased with himself.

"Well, yeah," he said, mopping up the spill. "It's like the biggest thing that's happened in wizarding history for years and _years_. And it wasn't that long ago. Just over twenty years."

"So tell me."

Hugo filled me in. Some of this I'd definitely heard students talk about, but, never really knowing the bigger picture, none of it had made much sense. It turned out it was an epic story with loads of stuff leading up to the battle itself.

"And it's not just my parents who were there, loads of people were," said Hugo. "Professor Longbottom was awesome, he killed Nagini, Lord Voldemort's giant snake, with the sword of Gryffindor..."

"No way?" Professor Longbottom seemed so mild and gentle, with his love of plants. I couldn't imagine him hacking up a snake with a sword.

"Yep. And McGonagall made all the statues come to life and fight the Death Eaters...and Lorcan and Lysander's mum fought too."

I screwed my face up. "I don't like them," I said instantly.

"Yeah, I remember you wouldn't work with them in Herbology, that time," said Hugo, looking at me shrewdly. "So...it's 'cause they're twins, and both here, right?"

"Right."

"Well, that's silly," said Hugo frankly. "It's not their fault, and they're all right. My family are friends with theirs so I hang out with them sometimes. Their mum's brilliant. Their dad's cool, too."

"Yeah, well..." I said, a little mutinously. I wasn't going to give up my feud with the Scamander twins just like that. I didn't care if they were nice. It was just on principle.

Hugo just shrugged, and carried on with his story. I found out the reason we had Professor Bunce as Potions Mistress was because the old Potions Master, who was a brave spy called Severus Snape, had been killed in the battle, along with many others. About fifty, loads of them students...I'd had no idea.

"But there's the big memorial down by the lake," said Hugo. "With all their names on. Haven't you seen it?"

"I've not really explored the grounds. I've been in the library a lot."

"Oh. Well, basically the battle ended 'cause Uncle Harry sacrificed himself for everyone, and everyone was protected 'cause he died, but he didn't really die, and Voldemort became mortal and was killed by his own curse bouncing back on him."

"Er - he didn't really die...?"

"Yeah, I never really understood that part," admitted Hugo. "Mum says she'll explain it properly when I'm older. But basically he won the war."

"Oh. Fair enough."

"Yeah...he's really modest though, never really talks about it. He works for the Ministry now, hunting down dark wizards. Hey, I can ask him and Mum and Dad about what you and your sister are trying to do, if you like? They might have some ideas."

"No," I said quickly. "I don't want loads of people knowing, particularly anyone who works at the Ministry. They might stop me trying."

We'd pretty much stopped practising the charm now, as there was only so many times Hugo could miss the glasses and mop up the resulting wet patch before it got wearing. He was definitely less erratic with his wand movements, though, and the water had even streamed neatly into a glass once, to his delight (though both of us knew it was probably a fluke). We finished off our essays in companionable silence, occasionally discussing an idea with each other.

By the end of the morning, I knew – and it was the weirdest feeling – that Hugo and I were now friends. Jennifer wasn't going to believe it when I told her. And oddly, I didn't feel as bad about it as I'd thought I would. Jennifer had made a whole bunch of friends at Greenhill.

When, with its usual loud creak, the blue Common Room door suddenly swung open, both Hugo and I glanced up, expecting the mass return of either exuberant or despondent Ravenclaws back from the match.

But instead, to my surprise, Professor Vector quietly entered the room, looking at me and Hugo over the top of her glasses with a kindly smile.

"Ah, there you are, Juliet. I saw you weren't at the match...I've been looking for you."


	19. Old Friends

"Is something wrong, Professor?"

"Does it have to be?" Vector said, mysteriously. "No, no. But I'd like you to come with me, if it doesn't inconvenience you and, ah, Mr Granger-Weasley, here?"

Hugo blinked and shook his head vigorously. "Not me, Professor."

"Good, good. You'll just need a warm coat, and a scarf and gloves if you've got them, Juliet, and a few overnight essentials, pyjamas and toothbrush, you know. Would you like to get them from your dormitory?"

I stared at her, not moving. "W-where are we going?"

"Oh, I'll explain on the way," said Vector airily. "Run along, now. I'll sit and have a nice chat with Mr Granger-Weasley."

Bewildered, I walked to the door that led to the dormitory stairs. Glancing back, I saw Hugo looking terrified as Professor Vector sat down opposite him.

When I returned five minutes later with coat, scarf and gloves, and some overnight things in Artemis' leg-bag which fitted weightlessly in my pocket, Vector got up promptly (to Hugo's evident relief) and ushered me out of the door with a cheery wave.

Vector didn't elaborate, as I followed her down the winding staircases and to the front doors – she walked very quickly for an elderly witch – and as I hurried at her heels across the grounds, now thoroughly mystified, I gasped, "Are we going into the Forbidden Forest, Professor?"

"Just a little clearing on the edge," said Vector. "I've a couple of Thestrals tethered there. We have a little journey ahead of us."

If it had been anybody else but the kindly Professor who had befriended me, I'd have begun to wonder if I was being kidnapped. "But to _where_? And what's a Thestral?"

"It's a sort of flying horse, more or less," said Vector, coming to a halt in the clearing and looking intently from me to a tree trunk a couple of times. I followed her gaze, confused, and she smiled reassuringly. "Ah, so you can't see them. Well, that's not a bad thing. Now, the Thestral is invisible to you but it's quite safe. They are _very_ swift so although we're going a fair distance, it'll only be, oh, a six-and-a-half-minute journey. I'll help you hop on. I'll just pop a water-repelling charm around us both to keep off this awful rain. And I'd better Disillusion us, or the Muggles will notice..."

The fact she hadn't answered my first question hadn't escaped my notice, and I hung back a little obstinately. I liked Vector, but what was going on here?

"A six-minute journey _where_?" I said, exasperated.

"I'll explain on the way," said Vector calmly.

"That's what you said –"

"Here," interrupted Vector, tapping my head with her wand, and then her own. A weird trickling sensation ran down me from the spot she'd tapped and to my amazement she fluidly disappeared in front of me, from the head downwards. But I could still see her when she moved...her skin and clothes were just patterned like the trees behind her. I gaped down at myself. My body was perfectly camouflaged, in the same way.

"Now, let's get you up," said Vector's voice, and I felt her hand grasp my own and guide it upwards until I felt something smooth and scaly under my palm. Something right in front of me snorted and I gasped as I felt hot breath in my ear. For one alarming second, I thought it was Professor Vector, but then realised the invisible horse was right here beside me.

"Hold tight to her neck and hoist yourself up," said Vector. "I'll help you."

How did you climb onto something you couldn't see? Feeling the creature's bony neck under my hands, I gripped as best I could and pulled myself blindly up. I felt Vector's hand under my foot pushing me up and over, and suddenly I was straddling a warm, living – though by the feel of it, weirdly bony – animal that was completely invisible, so that all I could see directly below me was wet grass and leaf mulch. This close to the ground it felt safe enough, if a little peculiar, but...

"Er, Professor," I said, now extremely nervous. "Did you say this was a – _flying_ – horse?"

"That's right," said Vector's voice, cheerfully as I felt my skeletal mount shift expectantly beneath me. "But don't worry. Thestrals don't let their riders fall easily, you're perfectly safe unless you deliberately leap off. Please don't do that, by the way. Holding tight to her mane?"

"Y-yes – but – _Professor!_ "

I screamed as I felt two enormous wings unfurl either side of me and the invisible Thestral lurched into the air. Suddenly the ground was a long way away and I was hurtling through the sky, gripping hysterically with my hands and knees to something I couldn't see, nothing at all between me and the treetops and lochs whizzing past far, far below...

"It's really not a long journey!" came Professor Vector's voice on the wind, close by – she must be flying right beside me. "Only another five minutes, now..."

Vector's charm kept off the rain but the icy wind whipped my face and hair as we shot along, through freezing clouds, miles up in the sky. Petrified, I leaned forward, taking one hand off the beast's mane to wrap my whole arm tightly around its skeletal neck, and then, carefully, the other arm. Clinging on limpet-fashion, I shut my eyes and willed the journey to be over. It was the longest five minutes of my life.

At last, with a terrible dropping sensation, like one of those nightmares where you plunge off a cliff and hurtle towards the ground, we were heading downwards. Seconds later, my Thestral landed with hardly a bump, just a horse-like snort as we came to a halt.

I slid off immediately, collapsing in a heap in the wet field we'd landed in, gripping the grass – oh, the relief of solid earth beneath me – and trying very hard not to be sick. Beyond the field was forest, and behind that, rows of craggy mountains wreathed in rain and swirling mist. It all span before my eyes and I shut them tightly.

"Oh dear," said Professor Vector's voice, anxiously. "You're not really a Thestral person, are you? It does help when you can see them...Here, have some of this while I tether them...it might help."

A small flask was pushed into my hand and I cautiously opened my eyes. Vector's wand tapped my head sharply again and with another trickling sensation, my body reappeared. I took a swig from the flask, of a thin potion with a strong peppermint flavour.

"I brought some just in case, but...well...I'm not sure you're going to enjoy doing that repeatedly," said Vector, who had also reappeared and was looking very concerned. "We're not supposed to do Side-Along Apparition, strictly speaking, but perhaps I'll overlook the rules this week...it's not _too_ far to Apparate..."

"W-why would I need to do that repeatedly?" I said, looking up in alarm, but Vector didn't reply, preoccupied with brushing creases out of her long skirt.

"Well, better be getting on," she said cheerfully, reaching out a hand. "Has that potion done the trick?"

She pulled me to my feet. My legs were still wobbly, but I didn't feel sick any longer.

"It's just a minute's walk this way," said Vector, opening the gate and ushering me along a muddy footpath which quickly led to the backs of some red-brick houses, and through a passageway between them into a quiet cul-de-sac.

"Here we are...number sixteen..." muttered Vector, looking up at a perfectly ordinary-looking terraced house with a brass plaque on the front saying _Glen View B &B_, and ringing the doorbell.

Looking questioningly up at her, I had just opened my mouth again to ask what on earth we were doing here when the door swung open. My sister stood there, beaming all over her face.

"Juliet!" she squealed, and threw herself on me, ignoring the rain and cold.

I was frozen with shock. "Jennifer? Jen! I – what – how –"

My brain struggled to take it in as Mum and Dad appeared behind Jennifer, both smiling widely at me.

"Mum, _Dad..._ "

Mum kissed me and gave me a hug.

"Oh, Juliet, your _face,_ " said Jennifer, between uncontrollable giggles. "I couldn't wait to surprise you!"

"You're – you're on holiday here?"

"That's right," said Professor Vector behind me, and I turned to see her eyes twinkling merrily at me. "Your family are here until next Saturday. You can stay here each night, if you like, and I'll bring you back before classes each weekday."

"That's – that's amazing. I..." I was still lost for words, and I still couldn't stop staring at Jennifer, who was just getting a grip on herself. When you don't expect to see your twin for another seven weeks, and this happens, well – I felt tears prick at the corners of my eyes. I was so happy.

"Aunt Ada's come to stay in the holiday cottage, too, she wanted to meet you," said Jennifer in a rush. "She's in the living room, I think she didn't want to spoil the surprise. Aunt Ada!"

She yelled down the hall and I heard the creak of someone getting up off a sofa hurriedly. Seconds later an elderly witch with a cloud of snow white hair came out to the front door, smiling at me for just a moment, before her gaze flicked behind me. Aunt Ada's mouth dropped open in surprise and I turned to see Professor Vector looking just as astonished.

"Seppy?"

"Ada? You're not – you're never – you're these girls' aunt? But –"

Suddenly the two witches were hugging and laughing, to everyone's astonishment.

"Seppy, it's been _years_. Why – _how –_ did we ever lose touch?"

"Oh, Ada, I don't know! Children? Careers? It was probably when you went abroad for a while...I'm so sorry...the children still talk about you, and I kept meaning to look you up again, but it had been so long..."

I looked between them, delighted but amazed. To think that Professor Vector was actually – or had been – apparently great friends with one of my relatives!

"I hadn't even realised you worked at Hogwarts now," said Aunt Ada to Professor Vector. "But it's my fault too...Patty would have found you wherever you were. I was so busy at the Ministry...and, well – everything was in such chaos after the war, you know."

"Yes," said Vector, in a low voice. "I know. I'm sorry, Ada."

Ada shook her head, her smile more wistful than ever. "It was a long time ago, Seppy. A long, long time."

The two witches paused, evidently lost in memories. The war...I wondered which war they meant. Did World War Two happen in the wizarding world, too?

"Well," said Mum, shyly, to Professor Vector. "It looks like we have lots of cause for celebration. Won't you come in for a cup of tea, Professor Vector?"

"Oh, yes, do come in out of the rain!" said Aunt Ada, taking Vector by the hand and pulling her in. "And, Juliet, it is _so_ lovely to meet you. You really are the spitting image of your sister! I've never seen twins so exactly identical."

I stepped inside, liking Aunt Ada already. She seemed so sweet and cheerful, and Mum, Dad and Jennifer were clearly very comfortable around her already. Jennifer had told me she had come for Sunday lunch a few times, since the first occasion.

It was so strange, drinking tea in the holiday house's cosy living room, surrounded by my family, an aunt I'd just met, and Professor Vector. My two worlds had collided strangely. I couldn't stop glancing between Vector and Aunt Ada. They sat next to each other, joining in the general conversation but at points breaking off to share a knowing look at something that had just been said, or a little laugh, a private joke. They were a little like me and Jennifer were when we were together, only about eighty years older. And yet they'd lost contact? I couldn't imagine it. But then, we were sisters and twins, after all, not just friends.

After an hour or so, Mum rose. "It's time we had lunch, I picked up some groceries in town. Won't you join us, Professor?"

But Vector hesitated, looking at a complicated watch on her wrist which seemed to have far more hands and numbers than an ordinary watch. "I'd better not," she said reluctantly. "I have so much marking to do. My OWL and NEWT students have a _lot_ of homework, poor things! But thank you for the tea, it was lovely to meet you, Mr and Mrs Belstone, and you too, Jennifer. Ada – we'll keep in touch, from now on!"

"Definitely," said Aunt Ada, pink with pleasure. "See you soon, Seppy."

"I'll come for you in the morning," said Professor Vector to me. "Be ready at seven-thirty, please. We won't go by Thestral, I promise."

"Oh, good," I said fervently. "And thanks so much for bringing me, Professor."

Professor Vector nodded and smiled at us before turning on her heel and Disapparating.

Dad spoke into the silence immediately following. "Er – did she just say she taught owls and newts?" His face was shining and I knew he was imagining giant talking magical animals. Quickly, I corrected him.

"They're types of exams, like G.C.S.E.s and A-Levels," I explained.

"Oh," said Dad, looking disappointed. "That's less exciting."

" _And_ less frightening," said Mum, and Jennifer and I laughed, before heading into the kitchen to help make lunch.

The whole of that week, I felt so happy I could burst. It was a bit like a dream, staying with Mum, Dad, Jennifer and Aunt Ada in Fort William each evening and night, playing card games together and drinking hot chocolate every day as a holiday treat. I got to know Aunt Ada just as well as the rest of my family did. She was as lovely as she'd seemed at first sight.

I was whisked to and fro by Professor Vector after and before classes each day. Abandoning the terrifying Thestrals, we walked to and from Hogsmeade and Apparated from there, Vector pulling me along with her (which technically she wasn't supposed to do, as I was underage). It was a weird sensation but infinitely preferable, and I readily agreed when Vector swore me to silence about the method of travel. I did tell Hugo where I was going each day, of course. Hugo looked a little wistful. He definitely missed his parents, too, even though they wrote to him a lot, but he didn't question it.

Susie and the others did, however. She and Marion caught up with me after a Transfiguration class to ask why I'd not been in the dormitory for a few nights. "Why do _you_ get to visit your family, and we don't?" she'd said, when I'd explained.

"Well, they're staying close by," I explained, cautiously. "And they got permission for me to stay because my sister and I missed each other so much."

"Why's that a special case?" said Marion, frowning. "I miss _my_ little brother, but I don't get to visit in term-time. That's not fair."

This was actually the first time any of them had asked me about Jennifer, since the first night when I'd told them I was sneaking out to write her a letter in the Owlery. I'd kept my sad secret close to my chest. The teachers knew, but Hugo had been the first student I'd told. Now – well, now I'd told Hugo, I didn't really know why I shouldn't tell the girls in my dorm.

"We're twins," I said briefly.

I saw Susie immediately work it out, Marion taking a moment longer. Both their eyes widened with surprise.

"Oh," said Susie, softly. "Your sister's a Squib?"

I just nodded and shrugged, embarrassed by her pitying look.

"So _that's_ why you've been so –" Marion clamped her mouth shut, looking embarrassed.

"So what?" I said.

"Nothing. Just – well – a bit unfriendly, you know."

"I haven't been unfriendly," I said indignantly. "You lot've been ignoring _me_!"

I saw Susie and Marion exchange a look.

"No, we have _not_ ," said Susie spiritedly. "Right from the start, you shut your bed-hangings on us every night and didn't join in any conversations. We've not been ignoring you. It's like you've been pretending we don't exist."

"Well, it's been like _you've_ been pretending _I_ don't exist, too," I shot back, but could feel myself blushing. Perhaps she was right. Although they'd certainly not made any effort to find out _why_ I shut the curtains...

Embarrassed and annoyed, I didn't say anything else, and after a while Marion just said, quite kindly, "That's really bad luck for you, though. About your sister, I mean."

"Yeah, it is," agreed Susie. "Er – come on, we'd better get to Charms."

We went to our next lesson together amicably enough. Astrid and Ivy, who were already there, looked surprised to see us arrive together, but they didn't get a chance to ask before the lesson started. I couldn't quite concentrate today. Usually I loved Charms, but I couldn't help wishing the time away. It was the last lesson of the day, and Vector would be waiting for me at the end to take me to Glen View again...

It was surreal but amazing, whizzing back and forth between my family and school that week. Each night Jennifer and I talked in whispers in our little bedroom, when we we supposed to be sleeping. There was so much I wanted to talk to her about, since finding out about the fairy-tale. But Jennifer was still adamant that the knowledge was useless to us.

"Honestly, Juliet," she said in exasperation, over and over. "We can't go possibly wandering in the deserts looking for Djinn, even if we could get there. That's crazy. And dangerous."

But several months spent semi-living in the library had taught me a lot about my new world. For instance, I was pretty sure there were several methods of magical transportation that could maybe get around the difficulties of distance. Jennifer still disagreed, saying it was a stupid idea and she wished she'd never found out about the fairy-tale. After a while she got even more snappish with me and refused to discuss it anymore, so I shut up, not wanting to spoil the holiday.

But the thing is, I knew it would be dangerous, and wouldn't be easy. I knew no one might have dared try before, or pulled it off if they had. But I knew I would do anything, anything at all, to get Jennifer to Hogwarts learning magic with me, _witches together_. Even if Jen came to Hogwarts a year or more behind me, she would eventually catch up. And then, what we could do, the fun we could have, once we were both skilled in magic...the possibilities blew my mind.

The main problem was, that as a first-year I knew I was way too young to have mastered any of the spells or potions we would likely need to pull off this trip, but for now, I was going to find out more about the Djinn. Unless a better plan came along, whatever Jennifer said – even if she wouldn't help me – I was going to throw myself into this one.


	20. The Summer Holiday

_July, 2019_

Jennifer

"Seems like this year's gone crazy fast," Ellie said to me, as headed down the corridor from the Sports Hall at the end of our final Self-Defence class. "Don't you think?"

I thought about this. "Yeah – it has, actually." The beginning of the school year had dragged on forever, but the last few months had whizzed by. "I guess I've been pretty busy."

"Do you still go to your science-y club then?" asked Ellie.

"Chemistry Club, yeah!" I said enthusiastically. "Last one for the year was yesterday though. I'll miss it over the summer."

Ellie cracked up when I said this. "You are such a nerd, Jen," she said between giggles.

"I am not!" I said indignantly. "Chemistry's cool, that's all."

"It's _boring_ ," drawled Ellie, as we neared the school gates. "Who cares about...you know... _atoms_ and stuff? You can't even see them!"

"Just 'cause you can't _see_ them doesn't mean they're not interesting," I argued. "And actually chemistry explains so much incredible stuff we just take for granted...like fire! What _is_ fire, Ellie?"

Ellie paused. "Oh, come on, _teacher_." she said eventually. "School's out. Fire's like – really hot – gas. Are you done?"

"But fire's _not_ a gas," I said. "It's a chemical reaction. A really complicated reaction. Something we would've thought was almost magic years ago."

"Well, I can strike matches without knowing, or caring, that it's not magic," said Ellie, rolling her eyes. "Like I said, you're a nerd. Anyway, see you tomorrow."

"Yeah, see you," I said, and Ellie flashed me a grin before we headed for our different bus stops. I knew she was only teasing about me being a nerd. We got on really well now, me and Ellie, after two full terms of partnering each other in self defence classes. She was fun and energetic, and I liked her, even if we didn't see eye to eye about everything.

I'd meant what I'd said, and to be honest she was probably right about me being a nerd about it. Chemistry Club was the highlight of my school week. There was something I found incredibly satisfying in discovering more and more about how things really worked, things that would've seemed impossible, or crazy, once. I often wondered whether magic could be explained scientifically, despite McGonagall telling me and Juliet that magic and science had nothing to do with each other.

I shivered with pleasure when I thought about Juliet. Her term was nearly at an end, too, and she was coming home on Friday for the whole summer! Six entire weeks together, and we were going to Corfu with Mum and Dad for two weeks, where there would be warm turquoise sea and pure white beaches. It was going to be amazing.

My phone beeped as I headed home from the bus stop and I checked it quickly. It was a text from Tara.

 _shindig at lennies fri night. his folks away. wanna come?_

My heart quickened when I read this. Tara had never invited me to one of their parties before...but I realised seconds later that I couldn't possibly go, not on Friday.

 _Really sorry,_ I replied. _Would love to, another time. But my sister is home_ _on Friday. We have family plans that evening._

I hoped very much that Tara wouldn't be offended, but she pinged back an answer immediately.

 _aww yr twin sis? glad 2 hear that lemme meet her soon yh? no wrries bout the party. c ya 2moz kid x_

I smiled, tucking away my phone as I reached my house. The more I got to know Tara the more I liked her. She was such a genuine person, and she had such a big heart despite her tough exterior. I hoped Juliet would like her too, and the others, if she could meet them all this summer.

Mum called out straight away from the kitchen, when she heard me close the front door behind me. "Hi, Jennifer! Good day? Do you still fancy making Juliet's cake with me before dinner?"

"'Course I do," I said, going into the kitchen to find that Mum had already assembled a pile of ingredients on the table and was greasing a cake tin.

"Thanks, darling," said Mum. "Now, I thought perhaps a Victoria Sandwich. That's always nice..."

"Can't we make a chocolate cake?" I said, a little disappointed.

Mum shook her head. "Sorry, love. No cocoa powder."

"Oh. Well, can we fill it with chocolate spread, then? Instead of jam? And put chocolate buttons on top? I can get them after school tomorrow."

"Chocolate spread in a Victoria Sandwich?" said Mum, looking scandalised.

"Yeah...Juliet'll love it! And it's her welcome-back cake!"

Mum sighed. "You two are proper chocoholics, you know. Well, all right then. Just this once..."

An hour later two fluffy golden sponge halves sat cooling on the table and the kitchen smelt deliciously of warm, sweet vanilla.

"Even better when they're stuck together with _loads_ of chocolate spread," I said, teasingly.

"Oh, you," said Mum, swatting me. "What a way to ruin a sponge. Right, what time is it?"

" _Time to cook dinner!"_ squeaked a familiar little voice, making us both jump. Dad had just entered the room, looking far too pleased, as he always did when he used his magical pocket watch (which was often). Mum and I exchanged amused glances. I didn't think the novelty would ever wear off.

"Well, I've been given my instructions!" said Dad cheerfully, tucking the pocket watch away. "My turn to make dinner. Everyone okay with beans on toast, I assume."

"Ha, ha..." I answered, rolling my eyes. This was Dad's standard joke whenever he cooked.

"Oh, I'm sorry, did you just want beans?"

"Very funny," said Mum. "Some pasta would be lovely, dear."

An hour later I sat back in my chair, full of chicken and spinach pasta, almost relaxed, but then I felt it. That edginess I'd been getting lately, often after eating. I knew exactly what it was and frowned, trying to think about other things.

"Are you all right, darling? You look worried."

I hadn't realised it was showing and quickly relaxed my expression. "I'm fine," I said quickly. "Really fine. Looking forward to Juliet coming back! I'm going to write to her tonight."

I escaped up to my bedroom shortly after and threw myself onto my bed, fidgeting and trying to ignore the feeling I'd been fighting – the itching, all-consuming urge for a cigarette. Recently I'd got so used to sharing a smoke with Tara and the others, I hadn't noticed the shift from hating the smell and taste of cigarettes, to not minding them, then actually quite enjoying them. When I realised, I was quite horrified. But often now I got random urges, not all the time, but usually after eating or when I was worrying about something.

I hadn't confessed to Juliet that I'd let myself get slightly addicted. She'd asked me about the smoking a few times, clearly not liking the idea at all. I'd always reassured her it was just a tiny bit, the tiniest, _eensiest_ bit, that it wasn't a big deal. She'd hate it if she knew. I hated it too. I'd looked up exactly what cigarettes were made of and the thought of all those chemicals pouring into my lungs made me feel ill, even at the same time as craving a smoke. I didn't like that my brain didn't seem so in control about it anymore.

I sighed and eventually made myself get up, knowing I had to distract myself. Apollo was watching me quietly from half-closed eyes. He was always sleepier during the day in the summer. I stroked the soft fluffy feathers on his chest, then rubbed my finger against his cheek until he hooted with pleasure and nibbled my fingertip.

"Well, I won't smoke in the summer holidays," I said to him. "So they'll probably wear off by next term. Want to take a letter to Juliet?"

The letter I wrote was very cheerful, as Juliet's had been too for the past week. The end of term was so close, plus it was our birthday soon: we were turning twelve! And we had the whole glorious summer stretching ahead of us...I couldn't wait.

* * *

 _August 2019_

Juliet

It was one of those lazy summer days with no breeze and Jennifer and I were hanging out in the garden, sprawled on the lawn, reading together. After our birthday, we'd spent two amazing weeks on holiday in Corfu, followed by another chilled out week at home, and were both very tanned and relaxed. This summer seemed so long after the short snatches of holiday we'd had together since I went to Hogwarts, and the remaining three weeks stretched out invitingly in front of us. Every now and then I stopped reading just to look at my sister, who was deep in her book. I was so happy to be back together, even though it was weird going so long without using magic. We weren't allowed to use magic in the holidays, so I had lots of essays to write, but my wand was collecting dust under my bed.

"How's your science book?" I asked, after a while. Jennifer was reading a book her Chemistry teacher had given her at the end of the year called _Elemental:_ _Our Chemical World_. It looked awful to me, but she was so engrossed she didn't even notice when a fly landed on her cheek.

"Hm?" she said, looking up with a start, suddenly realising that I'd spoken. "Oh...yeah, it's brilliant! I've just been reading about fertiliser..."

I laughed. "How on earth is fertiliser brilliant?"

"Well, before there was fertiliser, stuff didn't grow half so well," Jennifer explained earnestly. "Then they worked out a way to turn nitrogen and hydrogen into ammonia fertiliser and then, boom! There was loads more food, and the world's population exploded. That's literally one of the biggest reasons for over-population, and _that's_ a huge problem now...and the last chapter was about polymers and plastics. You know, everyone thought plastic was amazing for years, it was one of the best things people ever invented, and now the oceans are full of it and it's killing the fish...so it's just really interesting, how chemistry has been responsible for the human race advancing so much, but also a lot of seriously bad stuff that wasn't expected at the time."

I'd been struggling to follow half of what my sister had just said. "Wow," I said eventually. "You really _are_ keen on science, aren't you?"

I'd known that she liked it, but I hadn't realised till now quite _how_ much. It was kind of weird to see how into it she was. Sure, I was learning things that Jennifer wasn't, but only because she wasn't allowed to go to Hogwarts. Somehow I hadn't expected her to develop a massive interest in such a very non-magic subject. It unsettled me a bit.

"I wonder if scientists are going to work out a way to get rid of the plastic in the oceans and save the sea-life," said Jennifer, thoughtfully. "Or if witches and wizards could, even! Do you reckon it's possible for them to make all the ocean plastic disappear by magic, Juliet?"

"Oh, um..." I said, taken back. I imagined rows of Hogwarts teachers waving their wands at the waves, trying to Vanish it all. "I doubt it. You'd need, like...millions of us. Let's talk about something else. I've been researching Djinn, you know."

A little furrow appeared in Jennifer's forehead. "Yeah, I figured," she said shortly.

"Don't be like that," I said, hurt. "Hear me out, yeah?"

She didn't say anything, so I pressed on. "I found loads of stuff once I knew what I was looking for. So apparently, there are loads of them in this Great Salt Desert, the same one as in the fairy-tale. Wizards have sealed large areas of it off from Muggles, made big parts of it Unplottable so Muggles can't wander across them."

"Because they're dangerous."

"Because they're obviously magic," I countered. "Wizards conceal all magical beings from Muggles as best they can. But they shouldn't be hard to find."

"For you," Jennifer said. "I assume I'd only get so far, as I'm a Muggle."

"Yes," I replied, levelly. "For us to speak to a Djinn together I'd have to go ahead alone and ask it to come and meet you."

"Right. Sounds sensible." The sarcasm was barely concealed, and I suppressed a twinge of irritation with difficulty.

"There are quite a few mentions of encounters with Djinn that I've found. We wouldn't be the first to seek wishes...it's obviously quite tempting. It sounds as though lots of people have done it, over the years."

Jennifer did look mildly surprised to hear this. "Okay," she said cautiously. "And how did that turn out for them?"

"Well. It depended how they went about it. But _generally_ ," I stressed, "things went wrong when people went back on their deals. The deals are magically binding, you see."

"So why did people go back on them, if they wanted their wish so badly?"

"I don't know why!" I said, frustrated. "Because they didn't want it enough, maybe! The deals are probably pretty tough, because the Djinn are hard traders, but as long you complete your side of the contract you get your wish, they have to grant it in exchange. Like I said, it's binding. So, look, as long as we do _whatever they ask_ , they have to give you magic. They _have_ to! If other people were too chicken to complete their side of the deal it's nothing to do with us."

"Yes," said Jennifer, calmly. "But what _was_ their side of the deal?"

"I don't know exactly," I admitted. "Basically it sounds like they're not interested in money or anything valuable. If they want to exchange anything it'll be a service...doing something for them that they want."

"Like what? _Marrying_ them, like that poor Prince?"

I was silent for a few minutes.

"Look," I said eventually. "I just don't see why you're so dead against it. As long as we're careful and don't enter into a contract that is too dangerous, we can politely refuse and walk away before we get into anything. What do we lose by trying?"

"Juliet, I don't think –"

Jennifer's phone suddenly pinged loudly, and she sat up immediately, fumbling to pull it out of her tight jeans pocket, clearly glad of the interruption. She stopped talking abruptly, and I realised the conversation was over for now. I was frustrated it hadn't gone anywhere near as well as I'd hoped, but I swallowed my annoyance for now.

"Who's texting you?" I asked eventually.

"It's Tara," Jennifer replied, opening the message. "Oh. Cool! You want to meet her?"

She showed me the message on the screen.

 _wen we meetin ur sis yh? picnic on the beach 2day u shd come x_

"That sounds fun!" Jennifer said. "Let's ask if we can go, yeah?"

In my view, it'd probably be more fun for her than for me. The idea of spending the day with a whole bunch of older kids I'd never met before immediately made me nervous. But I definitely wanted to meet them, wanted to put faces to the names in Jennifer's letters.

"Yeah, all right. Sounds good," I said, trying to sound more eager than I felt, as Jennifer was clearly glad to have been asked.

My sister stood up, brushing bits of dead grass off her jeans. She looked thoughtful. "Trouble is," she said, "I've never told Mum and Dad about Tara, or the others. I kind of thought they'd not, you know. Approve..."

At this moment, Mum came out to the garden and saved Jennifer the trouble of going inside.

"Are you girls all right out here?" said Mum. "I was just thinking, while Dad's at work maybe we three could go for a nice walk, as it's such a lovely day?"

"Er," said Jennifer awkwardly. "Actually, I was just coming to ask you, Mum. Some people from school are meeting for a picnic today, on the beach. I was wondering if we could go?"

"What people from school, darling? That Ellie from your defence class?"

"No, some others," said Jennifer vaguely. "I hang out with them sometimes at lunch."

"Oh!" said Mum. "I thought you hadn't made many friends, Jen. Are they in your class?"

Jennifer hesitated, then evidently decided she didn't want to flat-out lie. "No," she said cautiously. "They aren't. They're in Year Ten. They noticed I was by myself at lunch, you know, so they asked me if I wanted to hang out with them. They're all _really_ nice."

"Oh, how lovely of them," said Mum. "Well, yes, they must be good kids to do that. I'm _so_ glad. Of course you can go...just be back before tea, of course."

I could sense Jennifer's relief. She texted Tara back and we looked up bus times. Twenty minutes later we were on our way.

"Mum took that well," said Jennifer. "I'm glad she didn't ask too many questions. They _are_ really nice, but, you know...they all grew up in Hitchwell, and you know what that's like."

Hitchwell was a biggish town about ten miles inland and it had a pretty bad reputation, really high crime levels. If there was a nasty story on the local news, you could almost guarantee it had happened there. We lived in what was generally a posh part of Devon, in a very safe, friendly village. I knew this was kind of snobby, but I couldn't help feeling nervous when I heard this.

"I'm pretty sure you never mentioned that," I said, trying not to sound too accusing.

"Well, why does it matter?" said Jennifer, shrugging. "Yeah, they've not had it easy like us. They're a bit – you know – well, rough round the edges. But that's all. And they're my friends."

I didn't miss the defensive note which had crept into Jen's voice, and I said quickly, "I know that. They sound cool. Really."

When we got to the beach it was full of holidaymakers, but Jennifer immediately spotted the group she was looking for amongst the sea of windbreaks and people on colourful towels. They were huddled by the rocks at the far side of the beach, on a couple of blankets. A couple of them waved as we approached and one girl stood up. Spiky black hair, thick eyeliner, wearing black leggings and a black leather jacket despite the blazing sun. This had to be Tara. She was smiling broadly.

"Jen-girl!" she said when we reached them. "Blimey, you weren't kidding. Identical, not half! So you're Juliet. Nice one. I'm Tara."

"Hey," I replied shyly. Everyone else was looking curiously at me. There was a small, serious-looking girl with short brown hair, a tall, broad kid with dreadlocks, a stylish-looking black guy taking a swig of beer, and a girl with white-blonde hair wearing a _lot_ of make-up and a very short skirt.

"Hey guys," said Jennifer, smiling at everyone. "Juliet, this is Lennie, Zac, Jasmin, and Ben."

"Nice to meet you," I said awkwardly.

They made room for us on the blanket and Tara offered us both a beer. They seemed to have a whole cool-box full of beer bottles, and not much food apart from crisps. The word 'picnic' had a very different connotation to me, and Jennifer too. Mum had loaded us up with fruit, bottles of juice, and chicken sandwiches to share, which she'd made quickly before we left. I could see Jennifer biting her lower lip. Would they laugh?

"Oh...um...no thanks, I don't really like beer," she said, and Tara shrugged and tossed the bottle aside. "It's okay, we brought stuff to drink. And, er - some food...sorry, it's nothing amazing...Mum likes healthy stuff..."

"Sandwiches!" said the boy called Lennie, reaching out. "Hey, why not. I'll have a sandwich. Cheers."

"Chicken...nice," said Ben. "Thanks, Jennifer."

They all tucked in appreciatively, and I relaxed a bit. They did seem all right, actually. Maybe the afternoon wouldn't be so bad after all. But I _hated_ the cloud of cigarette smoke that hung around them all the time. Every one of them was smoking.

"I've been seeing a guy recently," said Tara. "He works in Tesco in town, _no_ problem gettin' fags now! Here, have one –"

And she offered us the packet. I shook my head, glancing at Jennifer. She took one but I could tell she was unhappy about something. It was so weird seeing her put the cigarette in her mouth. My sister. We'd always been – well – _good_ girls. I'd found it really hard to picture her smoking with these guys, and here she was...but...wait a moment. I glanced at her a few times over the next ten minutes, and she _definitely_ wasn't actually smoking the thing, just pretending to. She was talking, and laughing, and waving it around so that the ashy tip kept falling off, and if she ever touched her mouth to it she didn't breathe in, I could tell. None of the others had noticed at all, but she saw me looking at her and gave me a quick, pleading look – she didn't want me to give her away. I stopped staring, quickly.

It was quite a good afternoon, in the end, although the empty bottles of beer stacked up pretty quickly and after a couple of hours I could tell they were all pretty drunk. But after a while Tara yelled, "Paddling time!" and dragged us all into the shallows where we all whooped and jumped the little waves and got soaking wet pretty fast...Lennie, waving his arms enthusiastically as he jumped, caught Ben in the chest and sent her flying into the water. Poor little Ben came up dripping and gasping, and Tara, Jasmin and Zac immediately leapt on Lennie and gave him a ducking. He came up with a wet gurgle, yelling "Ow! I didn't mean to! It was an accident!" Jennifer and I couldn't stop laughing, and I realised I liked her friends a lot.

She _would_ be okay at Greenhill without me, at least for the next year, while these guys were around. I didn't have to worry. But at the same time – was this selfish of me? I somehow didn't want her to get too settled. When I'd worked out a plan, I wanted Jennifer to come with me to find the Djinn. If I found a way, and it might be possible, she'd want to give it a go, surely?

"Jen," I said, as we sat, damp and sandy, on the bus back home. "You do still _want_ to become magic, don't you?"

She looked at me in surprise. "Of course I do," she said. "It's only been a year. I'd catch up. I just – I just think there might be another way, you know. A less dangerous one."

"It won't be dangerous, I promise. I'll find a way to make it safe."

Jennifer shook her head. "You can't promise that, Juliet."

But I'd been mulling over the whole idea all day, really, after this morning's conversation, and I'd decided I wasn't going to let Jen brush it under the carpet just like that. She'd come round, I was sure of it.

"It'll be okay," I told her. "You'll see."


	21. Ottery St Catchpole

_December, 2019_

Juliet

Today was a cold, clear Saturday in December and I'd buried myself in the Library again. I was deeply immersed in my book, _Then and Now: A History of Wizardry in Persia_. Interestingly, it sounded as though the concentration of wizards and witches in the Middle East was much greater than the Britain, or the States, or Europe. I read that most of them did their shopping in the Grand Bazaar in the capital, Tehran: this was a huge historic Muggle marketplace, but one concealed part of this was full of wizarding stalls – like an Iranian version of Diagon Alley! I also found out that there was one major, powerful family, the Yazdanis, who claimed to be direct descendants of Prince Bardiya, the first wizard. They pretty much ran the entire Ministry of Magic there, and they were the ones who made huge parts of the Great Salt Desert Unplottable to keep Muggles safely away from the Djinn...

It was all interesting, and all useful to know. But none of it was actually useful unless we could get there, and though I'd found a few reference books on British magical transportation, I hadn't worked out a way to do that yet. Thestrals were definitely not an option – they'd made me sick even on a short journey, let alone a cross-continental one. It was too far for brooms or Vanishing Cabinets. There was apparently an International Floo Network, whose headquarters were in the Ministry, and that was how most witches and wizards travelled internationally these days. But you had to pay to use this Network (quite a lot for long journeys) and possess a wizard passport – obviously not an option for Jennifer – and be accompanied by an adult if you were underage. I hadn't yet learned to Apparate, and it was too far, anyway. So how on earth would we manage it?

"Hey, Juliet!" a voice whispered, nearby, and I looked up with a jolt. Hugo had appeared suddenly behind me.

"Whatcha reading _that_ for?" he said curiously, reading the page over my shoulder about the Yazdani family.

"Just for fun," I replied quickly, snapping the book shut.

I saw Hugo glance at the title and frown, but all he said was, "Fun? You're weird sometimes. Anyway, want to go for a walk? It's the first time it's not rained in a week. I figured you'd be in here again."

Hugo often told me I lived in the Library.

"If you like," I said. "Where?"

Hugo shrugged. "Anywhere. Down to the Memorial?"

Ten minutes later, wrapped up in winter coats against the chill December air, we were gazing up at the Memorial. It towered twelve feet above us, a great white obelisk engraved with the names of the fallen fifty, those who had died at the Battle of Hogwarts twenty-five years ago. I knew the story now, and had looked at the Memorial before, but the names still meant nothing to me – except the odd surname that matched one of my classmates.

"Hey, there's a Weasley here," I said, noticing it for the first time. "Fred Weasley. Is he...?"

"Yeah," said Hugo quietly. "He was my uncle. My Grandma still cries about him sometimes. Dad doesn't like to talk about it."

"Oh. I'm so sorry..." Embarrassed, I scanned the rest of the names, looking for a change of subject.

"Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks," I read. "They're funny names."

Hugo shot me a reproachful glance, as though I'd said something offensive. "Are they?"

"Well, kind of, to me anyway. What, d'you know who they were?"

"Heroes," said Hugo, simply. "Remus Lupin was friends with Uncle Harry's dad. Uncle Harry knew him quite well, said he was one of the finest wizards he ever knew. Oh, and he was a werewolf."

"A _werewolf_? What, do they just let them mix –"

"- and Tonks was his wife, she was a Metamorphagus. Could change her appearance at will, you know. Their son Teddy was orphaned just after he was born. He's dating my cousin Victoire now."

"Do you know _all_ the people on this Memorial then?" I said, impressed.

"Oh, no," Hugo said. "But a lot of the old families are connected to ours...I mean, I have a _really_ big family. You should meet them sometime. Why don't you come over in the Christmas holidays?"

"Oh! Really?" I said, warmth rushing through me. Hugo had been friendly for ages now, but this was unexpected. I'd never been invited round anyone's house before. "You mean that?"

Hugo laughed. "Why wouldn't I? We don't even live that far from each other, do we?"

"I s'pose..." I knew Hugo's family lived in Ottery St Catchpole, where his dad had grown up, which was also somewhere in Devon. "Hey - can my sister come, too?"

"Of course, it'd be great to meet her properly!" Hugo said, his face breaking into a big smile. He'd met Jennifer briefly on Platform Nine and Three Quarters at the beginning of term, but we'd both been late and had to rush to get on the train. "I'll write to Mum and Dad to ask them."

The mention of Hugo's mum did make me pause for a moment. I felt suddenly anxious. "Um, we won't be in her way, will we?" I asked. "She must be so busy..."

Months ago I'd asked Hugo what his parents did for a living, curious to know what kind of jobs were out there in the wizarding world. He'd straightaway told me that his Dad helped run Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, the joke shop in Diagon Alley, but it had taken _weeks_ for me to prise his mum's job out of him (other than an evasive "oh, she just works at the Ministry"). And when I did, I'd been flabbergasted. Turned out she was the Minister for Magic, which was the equivalent of the Muggle Prime Minister. I wondered if she was very intimidating.

"No, you won't be in her way," Hugo told me, sounding a little sad. "You might not see her much, to be honest. She works all the time since she got promoted. Me and Rose don't really like her being Minister, it's rubbish. Dad'll be around though. And we can visit my Grandma and Grandpa, they live really close. Grandma's an _amazing_ cook."

I smiled at his earnest tone. Hugo always made me feel like life was simple. "That sounds great. I'll ask Mum and Dad. And Jennifer, of course."

* * *

The next day, Artemis brought back both their replies. Jennifer was delighted to be invited to a wizarding house and eager to get to know Hugo. Dad's reply was more cautious. His letter read:

 _Dear Juliet,_

 _How nice that you and Jennifer have been invited to a friend's house and that his family also live in Devon. I'd like to be sure this isn't a repetition of last Christmas's sojourn in Salisbury, however. Given the circumstances your mother and I would like to speak to Hugo's parents first. Please ask them to give us a call._

 _Dad_

I rolled my eyes when I read this. Was Dad going to embarrass me by playing the over-protective parent? Luckily, though, Hugo was unfazed.

"No problem," he said, shrugging. "Mum won't let Dad use telephones, though. He always does it horribly wrong. And she'll be too busy with work, I expect. But Grandpa _loves_ telephones. Well, he loves all Muggle stuff. He actually took me on a special trip when I was five, just to see the phone box in the village and tell me all about it. I'll ask him to call your family. It'll make his day."

"Thanks," I said, grinning. "Er – how does your dad use phones wrong?"

"Don't ask," said Hugo, shaking his head. "Mum's Muggle-born, she's shown me and Rose how loads of Muggle things work, but Dad's never really got his head round any of it. She won't let him touch her calculator any more 'cause he poked her last one with his wand and the battery blew up."

I started giggling, and couldn't stop. It was too funny hearing about wizards struggling with phones and calculators. "Oh, wow," I said, at last, when I'd got control of myself. "I can't wait to meet your family...especially your Grandpa. He sounds brilliant. I can bring him some Muggle stuff, he if likes it that much."

"If you did, he'd probably want to adopt you," Hugo said, grinning. "He's worked in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office ever since he left Hogwarts and he's retiring in April. He's going to go barmy unless he's got a load of Muggle things to fiddle with. Tell you what, can you bring him some plugs? Or batteries? Those are his favourite."

"Oh, er – probably not plugs," I said, imagining Mum's face if I chopped the plug off of the toaster. "But batteries, no problem..."

* * *

In a few days, it was all settled. Dad wrote to say that he'd received a _very_ enthusiastic telephone call from Hugo's Grandpa and he was satisfied that the invitation was legitimate. We were invited to stay "as long as we wanted", and in the end we agreed on three days. Because their house in Ottery St Catchpole was apparently quite hard for Muggles to find, Hugo's family was going to ask for our house to be connected to the Floo network, and we would travel there via the fireplace, just as McGonagall had done on her visit to us.

Travelling back on the Hogwarts Express this December was so different from last year. I shared the compartment with Hugo, like I'd done at the beginning of term. My long, lonely journeys seemed so far ago now: the time went by a lot faster when I wasn't by myself. Hugo showed me Exploding Snap and I taught him Hangman, and when we got bored with games we took advantage of the last opportunity to use magic again before next term. We were still allowed to use it, on the train, but as soon as we got off, that was it. We amused ourselves for a while making a couple of paper bags of Fizzing Whizzbees zoom around the compartment, smashing them into each other in an attempt to break them open and spill the contents. After a lot of fruitless sparring, a particularly intense jab of my wand led to my bag of sweets smacking Hugo's packet against the wall, where it burst open.

"Yesss! Victory!" I yelled, punching the air, as Hugo groaned and began to collect Fizzing Whizzbees from all over the floor and seats.

My good mood evaporated when a movement outside the door caught my eye and I saw the Scamander twins peering in. Hugo twisted round, seeing them too, and he beamed at them as I scowled, hard. I saw Lorcan shake his head at Hugo, and they walked on without bothering us. Lysander crossed his eyes at me before he disappeared.

Hugo sighed, glancing at me in exasperation. "Do you have to do that _every_ time?" he said, sounding irritated. "I am friends with them, you know."

"Yeah, but I'm not," I answered.

"I know, I know," Hugo sighed. "Your random, completely irrational, incredibly stubborn feud with two people who have done nothing to offend you."

"Whatever," I said, stung. "They both got to Hogwarts, didn't they? Just them _being_ here is an insult."

It was a conversation we'd had many times before, and Hugo didn't bother arguing any further. He simply glanced outside and said, "We're nearly in London. Let's get our stuff."

The carriage door slid open as we tugged our cases from the overhead racks, and Hugo's older sister, Rose, strode into our compartment.

"Did you have to hide in the last carriage?" Rose grumbled. "I've just walked down the entire train looking for you. Are you ready? We're nearly here."

"We weren't _hiding_ ," said Hugo. "We were just _sitting_."

"And throwing sweets?" Rose asked (patronisingly, I thought). We glanced at the floor, where several Fizzing Whizzbees in their blue and pink paper wrappers were still lying in corners.

"Well, I picked up most of them," Hugo replied, moving to get the others, but Rose was too quick for him.

" _Accio!_ " The sweets flew into her hand. I watched enviously. Summoning Charms were way beyond my level.

"Thanks, bro," Rose grinned, stuffing them deep in her pockets.

"You could've just asked, I'd have given you some," muttered Hugo, as the train slowly drew level with the platform.

To my delight, in the throng of waiting families, I glimpsed Mum, Dad and Jennifer waiting for me. I waved frantically until they saw me, grabbed Artemis' cage from the table, and hurried out of the compartment. When I spilled off the train with the rest of the students it didn't take long before Jennifer found me and hugged me tightly. As usual, I had to blink back tears. The only thing – the _only_ thing – which was good about us being separated, was the intense, giddy happiness of getting back together again. Soon though, I felt Jennifer pull away.

"Juliet," she was saying. "Guess what, Hugo's dad's here! He heard us talking about you and realised who we were. He's been telling us about his joke shop."

"Well, it's my brother's shop, really," said a voice, nearby, and I twisted round to see a tall, gangly man with flame-red hair standing nearby, Hugo and Rose waiting behind him. "But it's a brilliant place to work. So, you're Juliet! I'm Ron. Hermione and I were really glad to hear Hugo had made a friend in Ravenclaw, you know."

"Same for us, with Juliet," said Mum, smiling fondly at me, and I squirmed. Why were adults so embarrassing?

"Yeah," Ron replied. "Mind, if he'd been in Gryffindor he'd've been around Rose, and Seamus' kid...and Luna's twins –"

" _Dad_ ," interrupted Hugo. "D'you have to bang on about Gryffindor every time? You're so boring."

Our parents all laughed and gave each other significant looks. "Ah, they're nearly teenagers," said Dad wisely. "Best get ready for half a decade of insults."

"Oh, I get that from Rose all the time already," Ron said, with a snort, ruffling Rose's hair until she jerked away, scowling.

"See you next week," Hugo said to me and Jennifer. "We won't spend too much time with Dad, I promise."

"Nice to be appreciated," Ron said to my parents. "I'll pop over by Floo next Monday then, to pick the girls up? My wife will probably be working, I'm afraid."

"That's most kind," said Mum, beaming. "We'll look forward to it."

We travelled back to the Muggle side of King's Cross together and I watched as Ron shepherded Rose and Hugo towards a large, sleek-looking car with dark windows parked just outside. I supposed that as they were the Minister for Magic's kids they must be quite rich. I'd never really thought about that before; Hugo had always seemed very ordinary and never talked about money. I wondered if their house would be very grand, and for the first time, I felt a little nervous.

But Jennifer squeezed my hand and gave me a little smile. "I'm glad we're going," she said to me quietly as we walked towards the multi-storey car park just round the corner from the station. "They seem really nice. It's good that you've been spending time with Hugo and not worrying about you-know-what."

I frowned. "I _have_ been worrying about it, actually," I replied, also in an undertone. "And I've found out all sorts of helpful stuff. There's loads of information in the Library. I reckon, if we can just _get_ there –"

"What are you two nattering about?" said Dad over his shoulder.

"Nothing," I said, hastily. "Just – girl stuff."

Dad left us alone after that and we dropped back a bit.

"I just wish," hissed Jennifer, when we were out of earshot again, "that if you are going to spend all that energy trying to help us, you'd look into some other ways too. You've not even bothered to look at anything else since we read Aunt Ada's book."

"Why would we need to?" I countered, as we reached the car. "Look, we've found a way already. Except for the transport thing. And I'm going to figure that out..."

Jennifer got into the car wearing a very resigned expression, and I felt irritated that we were arguing already about this: I _knew_ I was right. But I tried to put it behind me. I wanted to enjoy this Christmas.

* * *

 _One week later_

Jennifer

All around me were warm green flames, higher than my head and it felt as though I was whirling like a spinning top. My ears were filled with a roaring, rushing sound and I opened my mouth in a silent scream. Immediately my tongue was coated with ash. I coughed and spluttered, then all of a sudden fell forwards out of the fireplace onto a hearth rug.

Immediately hands reached out to pull me up: Juliet, and Hugo, who had both gone before me.

"Wow," I gasped, as I got to my feet. "Travelling by Floo is _intense_."

"It's a hundred times better than Thestral, though," Juliet assured me as, with a whoosh and a scattering of ash, Hugo's dad landed on the mat behind us.

"Thanks for picking us up, Mr Weasley," I said as he dusted himself off.

"Oh, call me Ron, honestly. I feel ancient when people call me Mr Weasley...right then, what are you kids going to do with yourselves? How about a game of Quidditch in the garden? I can Keep for you..."

Hugo was already tugging at Juliet's hand and motioning me out of the sitting room, which was a comfy-looking place with squashy sofas and patchwork cushions, and a cheerfully-decorated Christmas tree in one corner with mounds of presents underneath. "Thanks, Dad, but no thanks!" he shouted over his shoulder. "Juliet doesn't like Quidditch either!"

I glanced back apologetically as we left the room – Ron looked disappointed.

"You have to be firm with him," said Hugo, leading us up the stairs. "Dad's great, you know, but when Mum's at work and he's at home with us he'll just get in the way constantly. Your room's up here if you want to dump your bags..."

He opened the door to a pretty spare room with blue curtains and a neatly-made double bed with a flowery coverlet. A dark wood bookcase in one corner was crammed with interesting-looking books and there was a soft cream rug on the floor.

"I really like your house, Hugo," said Juliet, sincerely, as we put our matching travel bags on the bed.

From what we'd seen on our way up, it was a big house, but comfortable, with a homely, lived-in, look, and not ostentatious at all, as Juliet had been worried it might be. You wouldn't know that Hugo's Mum was the Minister for Magic, not at all. The house wasn't anything near as grand as Number Ten, Downing Street.

"Thanks," said Hugo shyly. "Hey, tell you what you'll really like...follow me..."

He led us back downstairs and down the hallway, and pushed open the door to another room. We followed him curiously, and both halted in awe at what we saw.

"Whoa..." breathed Juliet. "You have your own _library?_ "

The room, which was fairly large, was lined with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves: there had to be _thousands_ of books, all beautifully organised. I moved towards the shelves, mouth open, reading the gold lettering that labelled each shelf. _Transfiguration, Charms, Potions..._ all the subjects I knew Juliet studied. And a load of complicated stuff I'd not heard about... _Arithmancy_ , one label read, and _Ancient Runes_ , another. There was a fireplace in the corner with a comfy little armchair next to it, and a writing desk in another corner with an inkwell, a beautiful eagle-feather quill, and a neat stack of crisp new parchment. Juliet and I were both speechless.

"It's Mum's," said Hugo, laughing. "It is pretty cool. Dad doesn't read much. But Rose and I spent a lot of time in here with Mum...well, you know, when she had a bit more time."

"That's insane," said Juliet, finding her voice at last. "I _love_ it! Your mum's awesome!"

A loud 'miaow' at our feet made me glance down. A small ginger-and-white kitten with a slightly squashed face was pawing at Hugo's leg.

"Hello, Paws," said Hugo, as we squealed and bent down to stroke the kitten.

"Oh, you have a cat, too, lucky!" I said, scratching it behind the ear. It was adorable.

"Um, yeah – we have about six, I think," said Hugo.

"You _think_?"

"Mum had a cat years ago...Crookshanks. This is just one of his descendants...they keep breeding with the cats in the village...we had fifteen at one point, I kind of lost track to be honest. Yeah, I think it's six. The others'll be around somewhere."

"Where's your sister, Hugo?" I asked him, remembering the red-headed girl at the Platform last week.

"She's at Lorcan and Lysander's house today, I think," said Hugo. "They live just over the hill from us. They're in our year – twins, actually."

"Oh yes," I said, remembering. "Juliet's mentioned them."

Juliet was scowling at this conversation, but she didn't say anything.

"You seem less bothered," Hugo commented, as he led us away from the Library and towards the kitchen. Two cats, both a bit bandy-legged, leapt off the table when we came in. "Juliet, uh – doesn't like them too much."

I shrugged. "It bothers me that I wasn't able to go to Hogwarts with you guys," I said. "But it's not any other twins' fault."

Juliet opened her mouth at this point and Hugo cut in hastily. "Anyway, shall we have a game of Exploding Snap or something? Or we could go for a walk? We're having dinner at Grandma and Grandpa's, by the way. Dad's not too brilliant a cook."

As it was quite a nice day, for December, we opted to visit the village, Ottery St Catchpole, which was a short walk away.

"So is this a wizard village?" I asked, curiously. "Only, I Googled the name and nothing came up."

"Googled?" said Hugo, looking confused.

"Er - looked it up on a computer?" I clarified.

"Oh, right," Hugo said. He'd evidently heard of computers at least. "No, it's a mix really. There's always been a lot of witches and wizards living here, so there are a lot of hidden houses...generally Muggles can't see them unless they're invited in, and there's a little shop which is the same...but the rest of it is all Muggle. They have a different name for the village."

We wandered around and visited the little wizarding shop – which I couldn't see, tucked between the Muggle Post Office and a little bakery – until Hugo took my arm and pulled me through the door. It was a tiny old place that just breathed magic. I looked around in delight at the shelves crammed with ink pots and quills, a battered-looking kettle that rattled and puffed out blue steam at intervals, bags of owl treats, some rails of second-hand robes, old wooden wand-cases, a little glass case full of peculiar silver objects...it was like Diagon Alley crossed with a Muggle charity shop.

"All right, my dearies?" croaked a little old witch in a pointy purple hat, sat behind the counter, holding a china cup of tea which was stirring itself with a teaspoon. She looked like she'd been there for a hundred years.

"Hello, Mrs Mulciber, how are you?" asked Hugo, politely.

"Not too bad, my love, and is my Felicity behaving herself?"

"Oh yes," said Hugo. "Mum and Dad are very happy to have her. Mrs Mulciber's daughter cleans for us and looks after the garden," he added to us in an undertone.

The old witch gestured towards a corner of the shop crammed with sweets and chocolate. "Well now, I know what _you'll_ be wanting, hm?"

She wasn't wrong...none of us couldn't resist the lure of wizarding sweets, and Juliet had some Sickles and Knuts with her (Dad had changed some money in Gringotts this summer, and sent Juliet her pocket money in wizarding coins at her request). We left with our pockets full of Chocolate Frogs, Liquorice Wands, and Fizzing Whizzbees and munched them happily as we continued our wander around Ottery St Catchpole.

As darkness started to draw in, Hugo suggested we make our way to his grandparents' house, which was the other side of the village.

"They've been dying to meet you," he said. "They were terribly worried when Rose told them I wasn't friends with any of the Ravenclaws. I'm sorry if they smother you..."

"That's okay," said Juliet, laughing. "I don't mind at all."

Hugo's grandparents' house was very different to his (a large, half-timbered house with an intricate thatched roof and a tidy garden). This was much more ramshackle, and I liked the look of it immediately: the house itself was extremely crooked, and outside was an unabashedly messy front yard with a leaning shed and several chickens pecking their way around. We passed a small sign which read 'The Burrow'.

The front door was flung open as we arrived, to reveal a short, plump old lady with a very kind face and threads of grey running through her red hair. She'd clearly been watching out of the window for us.

" _Hugo_ , dear! Why didn't you come earlier! And you're the twins, how _lovely_ to meet Hugo's friends at last. Do call me Molly."

She pulled both me and Juliet into a warm hug, and I smothered a giggle. She was so sweet. Hugo was blushing, but I grinned at him over his grandma's shoulder to show it was okay.

"Come in, come in, get warm," fussed Molly, ushering us all in. "My, aren't you two just the spitting image of each other! Now, which one of you is Juliet?"

"I am," said my sister, shyly.

"Then you must be Jennifer." Molly beamed at me, and took our coats. "Now you must all be starving, I've got dinner all ready, Ron's here already and he said you lot went out without even taking sandwiches!"

"We had sweets," Hugo offered.

"Sweets are _not_ lunch," said Molly severely, "Your mother should have taught you better. _If_ she was around more I'm sure she would. But of course Hermione's _work_ is more important..."

"Grandma gets cross at Mum for being away so much," whispered Hugo, as Molly hustled us into the kitchen, from which came an amazing smell of roast chicken and buttery potatoes.

I blinked to see so many people gathered in the kitchen.

"Everyone, these are Hugo's friends! Juliet's in Ravenclaw with him and this is her sister, Jennifer," Molly announced to the room. "Girls, this is my son Bill, and Fleur, and Louis, Dom, Victoire and Teddy, ah, and here's George and Angelina, Roxanne and Fred...and you've met Ron, of course. My husband Arthur should be back from work soon."

My head was spinning after this round of introductions and I immediately forgot several names. There was a chorus of welcomes from the cheery-looking crowd around the table, except from the man called George who, I noticed, was looking at me and Juliet with a slightly peculiar, distant look on his face. I saw Juliet glance at Hugo in slight alarm – we'd not known there would be anyone else here.

"Told you I have a big family," whispered Hugo as he found us seats. "This is only some of them! Sorry, I forgot to say, they're all staying with my grandparents over Christmas..."

"Oh, here's Arthur!" Molly exclaimed, as the silhouette of a tall man appeared, spinning, in the fireplace, and seconds later, stepped out into the kitchen. He looked quite elderly, and was nearly bald – although what hair he had left was still red. He brushed ash off his suit and looked around, smiling, though he was clearly quite tired.

"Hullo, Dad!" and "Yay, Grandpa!" came shouts from around the table as Arthur removed his coat. Molly introduced me and Juliet, and he shook our hands eagerly, particularly mine.

"Long day, Arthur?" said Molly, fussing around him. "So close to Christmas too...they shouldn't keep you so long."

"Oh, it's okay," said Arthur. "There's always more stuff to watch out for at this time of year...people in a festive mood playing pranks for a laugh...and Ali Bashir causing his usual problems, the man's incorrigible..."

"What problems, Grandpa?" piped up the small dark-haired boy next to George. "Who's Ali Basher?"

"Ali Bash _ir_ ," said Mr Weasley, sitting down and sniffing in appreciation as Molly carried over two large roast chickens and set them on the table next to the potatoes and some little sausages wrapped in bacon. "He's the man who has plagued my entire working life. Every single year he smuggles in some magic carpets to sell, I'm sure, although we only catch him at it now and again. Even some huge fines and a short stint in Azkaban haven't stopped him! Oh, he's a slippery one..."

"Why ees he so keen on zees illegal carpets?" asked a very beautiful woman with long silvery hair, as she daintily carved a potato into four pieces. "What ees wrong wiz brooms?"

"Oh, you'll never convert Ali to brooms, Fleur," said Arthur, shaking his head. "He pretends, but...no, he and his friends think carpets are the _only_ way to travel...and yes, they _are_ fast and comfortable, and much easier for long distances than brooms. But, Merlin! There's a reason they're banned in Britain. When the Muggles spot those sailing along in the sky, imagine what a headache it causes for everyone. But Ali's supplying more than a few of his friends regularly, selling and hiring them out. They all want to visit their families in Egypt and Saudi Arabia and wherever for Christmas you see. If we could only catch a few of them at it..."

"You've raided his shop a few times, haven't you, Dad?" asked the man next to Fleur, who I think was called Bill. "But you've never found anything?"

"He's far too crafty to have them lying around in his shop," said Arthur, reaching for the gravy jug. "Wonderful chicken, Molly..."

"Is his shop in Diagon Alley?" Juliet piped up, casually, and I glanced at her in surprise. Then I realised. Oh, God. Her eyes were sparkling with suppressed excitement.

"Yes, he's had a little place there for years..." Mr Weasley rubbed his eyes, tiredly. "Still," he added, "he won't be my problem much longer! I don't envy the poor sod who has to deal with him when I go."

Everyone laughed.

"Oh, I _am_ looking forward to you retiring, Arthur," Molly said, happily. "It'll be just like a lovely long holiday together..."

I was still looking at Juliet, and eventually she glanced at me, a smile dancing around her lips and her eyes shining. I knew exactly what she was thinking, and my heart felt like it had dropped to the floor and stayed there. Illegal magic carpets from some dodgy bloke in Diagon Alley. Surely not. _Surely_ she didn't want to try something so utterly crazy as that?


	22. Ali's Cave of Wonders

_March 2020_

Juliet

Furious, I screwed the letter into a ball and threw it at the waste bin in the corner of the dormitory. The piece of parchment bounced off the stone wall and landed on the floor. I glared at it. Artemis hooted expectantly at me.

"Oh, leave me alone, you dumb bird," I muttered irritably, and yanked my blue bed hangings shut, drawing my knees up to my chin. I heard Artemis squawk angrily and flutter off through the open window into the chill air of early evening. I immediately felt a pang of guilt but brushed it aside. I'd make it up to her later.

Mr Weasley was right: Ali Bashir was slippery as an eel. This was my seventh letter to him since Christmas and the man hadn't given an inch. I could have howled in frustration.

 _Apologies, Miss Belstone, you and your twin sister seem to have some misconception of my trade,_ he wrote, or something similar each time. _I do not peddle flying carpets, my shop is most respectable. These objects are defined as a Muggle Artefact by the Registry of Proscribed Charmable Objects and are banned in Britain. Good day now._

I'd begged, pleaded, even gone so far as to swear I wasn't a Ministry spy, told him Jennifer and I were desperate to visit a very ill friend who lived in Iran, but each answer came back just the same.

I ran my fingers through my long hair, clutching the ends and tugging distractedly. It was no good. Ali was obviously not going to budge one inch by letter. I suppose, if I were Arthur Weasley, I'd have tried exactly this: innocently pretending I wanted to hire a carpet, to catch him out. Without seeing me and Jennifer he was clearly going to assume we were Ministry workers. Surely, once he saw we really were students, he'd know it was an honest request? I needed to get to Diagon Alley to persuade him in person and no way was I going to wait until next summer when we topped up my school supplies. Already more than half of my second year at Hogwarts was gone and I was getting desperate.

When, a little later, I heard Marion and Susie come up to bed, followed shortly by Astrid and Ivy, I pretended to be asleep, snoring gently until they lowered their voices so as not to disturb me. I needed to think. That night I lay awake for hours, as the wind whistled shrilly around Ravenclaw tower and bats squeaked outside like chittering mice...

In the morning I rose very early, knowing what I had to do. It was a Sunday, and the Great Hall was deserted apart from a couple of teachers reading the Daily Prophet and eating toast, and the Slytherin Quidditch team, who were evidently having an early breakfast before a training session. I wolfed down a bowl of porridge then slipped a large slice of bacon and a kipper into a napkin and into my pocket before heading up to the Owlery, where I knew I'd find Artemis in a right strop. When I got up there she didn't fly down to my shoulder as usual, and, spotting her on a high-up rafter, I had to climb the rickety wooden staircase that wound up the wall, to get as near to her as I could and coax her down with the kipper.

"I'm sorry, Artemis," I said, when she finally consented to flutter onto my arm to gulp down the kipper, though still with her back turned huffily towards me. "I was cross at dumb old Ali Bashir, not you, really. Look, I brought you your other favourite – bacon!"

Eventually, unable to resist, she nibbled at the bacon while I scribbled a letter to Mum and Dad.

 _Hi Mum, hi Dad,_

 _Hope you're all okay at home?_

 _My term has just got quite interesting because Professor Vector gave us all lists of new subjects for next year to think about over the Easter holidays. I'm definitely choosing Arithmancy which is Professor Vector's subject but I'm not sure whether Ancient Runes is more useful than Divination or Care of Magical Creatures. It's such a hard choice...they all sound fun!_

 _Can we please go to Diagon Alley at Easter so I can buy some school books? I'd like to get ahead for next year and if I read some of the subject textbooks it'd help me decide which ones I'd like to do, most. Professor Vector says it's a really big decision because these subjects affect my future career choices. Me and Jennifer like Diagon Alley anyway and we can spend our pocket money there too, so please can we go?_

 _Can't wait to see you soon!_

 _Love,_

 _Juliet._

I read the letter through quickly, heart thumping a little. Lying to Mum and Dad never got any easier. Would they guess I had a secret ulterior motive? The letter looked casual enough to me. Well, it was partly true anyway, reading up on the new subjects would be helpful, and I _did_ like wandering around Diagon Alley.

Artemis had finished her bacon and, slightly mollified, let me tie the letter to her leg, ruffled her feathers at me, and took off through the nearest window.

I watched until she dwindled to a speck and disappeared in the clear morning sky, the sun rising over the great lake in hazy glory. There had been a little knot of anxiety in my stomach for days and it tightened a little as I thought of all the things that could go wrong. What if Mum and Dad said no, they didn't want a trip to London? What if got there, but met Ali Bashir in person and he still pretended he didn't know a thing about magic carpets? What if we got a magic carpet and something went horribly wrong on the journey, or in the desert?

I gazed out at the majestic ring of mountains that surrounded the castle – the view from the Owlery was unbeatable – and sighed, trying hard to push the doubts from my mind. One step at a time, I told myself. One step at a time...

 _April, 2019_

Jennifer

I was huddled with the gang in our usual corner of the school grounds. Lennie, Jasmin and Zac were bickering over something and I'd zoned out a bit, thinking about Juliet's latest letter.

Tara's voice interrupted my thoughts. "You all right, Jen? Summat's eatin' you, yeah?"

I looked up quickly and shook my head. "Aw, no," I told Tara. "It's nothing. Just been arguing with my sister a bit."

"Oh, she home?"

"Not till tomorrow, for the Easter holidays. No, I mean we've been arguing in our let—texts. It's nothing, just stupid stuff."

Tara lit a cigarette and didn't press the matter. I could see Ben looking at me slightly sadly and I sighed inwardly, remembering how she hated to see anyone fighting with their sisters. Ben's history did put it into perspective, but...Juliet was just acting so crazy, lately!

Tara offered Ben the cigarette packet but to my surprise she shook her head.

"No thanks, Tara," she said politely but firmly. "I brought my own." And she pulled out a plastic pen-shaped object and a little bottle of dark liquid.

" _Vaping_? _"_ Tara said, disgusted. "You've got to be kiddin'. What the hell's that about?" Tara had often voiced her irritation at the few other kids at school who vaped, often with fruity flavours added, dismissing it as a dumb trend.

Ben calmly tipped a little of the brown liquid into the tube. "I'm trying to quit, actually," she said. "Jennifer inspired me."

Tara looked even more pissed off and shoved the pack of cigarettes back into her coat pocket irritably. "Jesus, what're you lot comin' to?"

She'd not been impressed when last term I'd screwed up the courage to turn down the cigarettes she'd offered, telling her I quit over the summer. I'd stood my ground though and eventually she'd reluctantly accepted it. I tried not to look too pleased at Ben's decision.

"How's that thing gonna help you 'quit', anyway? Still got fucking nicotine in it, ain't it?"

"Yeah," Ben said lightly. "But I've mixed this with a bit of vegetable juice – that's what they recommend cause it's got some flavour - and I'm going to gradually dilute it more and more so I don't really notice. Eventually you know, the idea's that I'm be smoking ninety-nine percent carrot juice and I'll think hey, this is stupid, what am I doing? And then I'll stop."

"Good plan," I said, adding, "Though I've heard carrots are really addictive, so..."

Ben and I giggled while Tara rolled her eyes. "Whatever, do what you bloody like," she muttered, and blew out a cloud of cigarette smoke.

"We're going to London this weekend," I said, to change the subject.

"Yeah?" said Ben, looking interested. London was quite a long and expensive train journey away, and none of us had much reason to go there often. I wasn't sure that Tara had ever been.

"Yeah, picking up Juliet from King's Cross," I said. "Then we're staying with my aunt and uncle in Guildford for a couple of days." This was Mum and Dad's plan, so that we could go to Diagon Alley to get Juliet some textbooks – at least, that was all they knew. They'd been dead pleased that Juliet was putting so much thought into her future subjects at Hogwarts.

"You're lucky," Tara said, looking at me intently with her piercing blue eyes, ringed with her thick black eyeliner. "I'm goin' to London someday. Soon's I can drive I'm getting' hold of a car, and outta our dead-end town for good."

Jasmin, Zac and Lennie had looked round at this.

"Hey, you mean that?" Lennie said, his voice slightly tight, and Ben and I glanced at each other. We knew Lennie was sweet on Tara, but she never seemed to notice, hanging out with older guys back home in Hitchwell.

"'Course I mean it. Hitchwell's a _hole_. It ought to be filled in."

Lennie shrugged and gave a half-laugh. "Yeah, but it's _our_ hole," he said eventually, then looked away. There was an awkward pause.

"Maybe we can all go," I said, to lighten the tension. "You guys can rent a cool flat in London and I'll come join you in a few years."

Everyone smiled at that and Tara ruffled my hair, the earlier argument about smoking forgotten. "You're a cute kid," she said. "A really cute kid."

I grinned back. "Well," I said. "You guys are leaving at the end of the year. I want to stay in touch."

"Aw, 'course we will," said Ben, giving me a friendly pat on the shoulder. "And you'll be fine here without us now, you know..."

That weekend, Ben's reassuring words ran through my head as I walked with Mum, Dad and Juliet from the Tottenham Court Road tube station and round the corner into Charing Cross Road towards the Leaky Cauldron. She was right, I thought. Somehow I knew after nearly two years at Greenhill that I wasn't the same mousey little kid who'd let myself be pushed around at the beginning. I felt more assured, more confident, and if Sabrina or Sandy did get it into their heads to try picking on me again once I was unprotected I just wasn't going to stand for it this time.

We came to an abrupt halt next to Marks and Spencers, at the concealed entrance to Diagon Alley. Juliet took my hand and gave it a squeeze. "You all right?" she whispered, as she opened the door which was invisible to me, Mum and Dad. My stomach gave a funny little twist. I'd been trying very hard not to think about what Juliet was going to try to do today, but now she was pulling my through the familiar alleyway full of waste bins. The sound effects flicked on as usual once I was midway along the alley, clutching Juliet's hand, the muddled clamour of voices and sound of glasses clinking, till we apparently left by the back door and the noises receded. Moments later Juliet had opened the magic gateway through the wall and we found ourselves in Diagon Alley, as colourful, busy and quirky as ever.

"You know, I can't stand shopping," said Dad, "But here" – he rubbed his hands gleefully and looked around – "I could stay for hours!"

"Let's find your school books first, Juliet," said Mum. "Now, let me see, the bookshop's a little way down here on the left, isn't it?"

We meandered towards Flourish and Blotts, past Eelops Owl Emporium and the ice cream parlour, a quill shop, a tiny junk shop, and a florist shop with all kinds of bizarre plants in different-sized colourful pots on rickety tables outside. There were big plants with trumpet-shaped flowers that honked at us, tiny fuzzy ones that looked as soft and strokable as a baby rabbit; spiky cacti with long tendrils like feelers...

"Goodness," said Mum. "Do you think I could grow some of these at home? I wonder what they do?"

As she bent to inspect a plant with glistening silvery-green fronds, I felt a sharp pain in my side and nearly cried out. Juliet had elbowed me in the ribs. I glared at her but she just widened her eyes at me and tilted her head ever so slightly to the right. Immediately, I realised why she was so excited. Right next door to the florist was an interesting-looking store whose dusty windows were crammed with unusual objects: woven baskets, long pipes, bottles, patterned rugs, brass lamps, rings, kettles, an intricate clock; my gaze wandered over an ugly ornamental china camel – which unnervingly turned its head to stare blankly at me – to a beautiful patterned blue scarf whose little handwritten sign read _Lebanese scarf, said to bring the wearer good fortune: Fourteen Sickles_. From the open door a faint musky, perfumed smell wafted towards us. I looked up, and read the sign above the door, already knowing what it would say: "Ali's Cave of Wonders". Juliet's eyes danced with excitement and I nodded at her to show I'd understood. My heart beat painfully. This was actually happening.

"What a funny-looking place," said Dad, also looking over. "Right, come on, Fiona, let's get these books...come on, girls..."

Mum tore herself from the shop with difficulty and we headed into Flourish and Blotts. Juliet quickly selected the main textbook for each of her possible subjects and tottered with them to the till.

"Hang on a minute," said Dad, halting the bookshop owner. "We'll have to carry these great big books all round all day. Why don't we ask this gentleman to put them behind the counter for us and we'll pick them up before we leave? We'll be looking round some other shops, won't we? I want to look in that joke shop..."

"I wouldn't mind having a proper look at those plants," Mum said.

Juliet seized her chance. "Yeah!" she said enthusiastically. "Dad, I need some new quills – and we're both out of owl treats – and I've seen loads of stuff in windows I want to go and look at with Jennifer – can we split up and all we meet back here in a bit?"

"Oh, well, I don't see why not," said Dad. "Let's say, ah – two hours, shall we? Meet back here and we'll find something for lunch?"

"Great, thanks, Dad!" Juliet said, beaming at him and dragging me out of the shop. "See you later! Let's get the owl treats first, shall we Jen?" she added, loudly, heading slowly into Eelops Owl Emporium so that Mum and Dad, leaving the bookshop, would see us going in.

"Well, try and be a bit more obvious, couldn't you?" I hissed, as we crept around the dimly-lit shop with its hundreds of caged owls rustling and hooting around the walls. The shopkeeper was busy serving an elderly lady at the till.

"What? That was fine," said Juliet, staring out of the window. I could see Mum disappearing into the florist and Dad heading down the Alley towards Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. When he, too, was inside, Juliet tugged my arm.

"Come on! Here's our chance," she said softly, and we both darted out of the shop and across the road into Ali's Cave of Wonders.

The heady smell of incense increased tenfold as we opened the door and I blinked in amazement when I looked inside. The shop was huge, but so stuffed with furniture, baskets and ornaments it seemed cramped. Rickety wooden shelves right up to the ceiling were crammed with weird and wonderful objects just like those in the window, several lit lamps in corners and on tables were draped with patterned shawls, and precious stones of all colours and sizes gleamed from rings and brooches nestled in silken scarves. A weird creaking sound made me look up and I saw, to my surprise, a large bird cage hanging from the ceiling. Its occupant, a bedraggled black bird with gleaming green eyes and a sharp curved beak regarded me suspiciously as it made its loud creaking call again. Perhaps it was a summons, because there was the patter of footsteps and a trapdoor was flung open beside the till desk, and a man climbed nimbly out. He had a clever-looking face with a pointed black beard and was wearing long purple-blue robes edged with silver; he looked at us shrewdly, saying nothing.

"Hello," said Juliet boldly, stepping forward. "You must be Mr Bashir?"

"Well, well, well," said the man slowly. "Hogwarts student, twin sister, determined expression, come marching into my shop. So, you _do_ exist, my little – _pen-friend_."

I found his manner pretty unnerving and could tell that Juliet was uncomfortable too. But she took a deep breath and replied.

"Yes, we do exist," she said. "I'm Juliet and this is my sister Jennifer. I wanted you to see we were who we said we were. I – I thought you might think we were trying to trick you."

"Trick me?" said Ali Bashir blandly. "Trick me how?"

"You know," said Juliet, frowning. "Like, if we actually worked for the Ministry of Magic and were just trying to get you to admit you had magic carpets."

"Magic carpets?" said Ali. "Who said I had such things? You see my shop" – he waved a hand theatrically at the objects surrounding us – "all of this is most respectable..."

"Look, Mr Bashir," said Juliet impatiently. "I'm not trying to get you in trouble. We just want to hire a carpet from you, we'll pay, and we won't breathe a word about where we got it from. Honestly. Please help us. We're desperate to travel abroad to visit our aunt, she's sick, and we can't get there otherwise."

Ali Bashir looked at my sister for a long time, shaking his head very slightly. Then he drew a wand from his belt and flicked it at the door – I heard the click of the lock and a little sign on the glass span round so that 'CLOSED' was now facing the street. Another flick of his wand and the many lamps dimmed so it would be hard for people outside to see us.

Ali settled himself down on a little wooden chair behind the till and studied us again. At last he spoke.

"Tell me the truth."

"What?"

"The truth, please. You want my help, you don't fob me off with these lies. Your aunt's sick? Hogwash. Your mother or father take you on the International Floo Network. They don't let their precious twin daughters beg a carpet off Ali Bashir. _Not,_ " he emphasised, "that I have any carpets, of course."

Juliet and I looked at each other. I shrugged. "Tell him," I said. "He's not stupid, Juliet."

My sister sighed and frowned...I knew what she was thinking. Any adult wizard who knew what she was trying to do would surely never help us, not in a million years. But it was equally as obvious that there were no flies on Ali Bashir. The truth it had to be, and in the end I spoke first.

"I'm not a Hogwarts student," I told him. "I'm a Muggle, and our parents are Muggles. Juliet's the only witch in the family, even though we're twins."

I noted the flicker of surprise in Ali's so far inscrutable face, and something more – something deeper than curiosity. He jerked his head at me to continue.

"Juliet wants – we both want," I corrected myself, catching Juliet's hurt expression, "to travel to Iran to seek out the Djinn. If we can make a successful deal with one, there's the chance I can become a witch and join Juliet at Hogwarts."

The words fell into an empty silence; they sounded even stupider to me, when voiced aloud, and I could feel myself going pink with embarrassment. Surely now Ali would laugh in disbelief, and tell us not to be silly little girls, to run back to our mum and dad...

But to my great surprise, he didn't. He leaned back in the rickety chair and nodded at me. He had accepted our story.

"And we can't use the International Floo Network," said Juliet quickly, "because you need a wizard passport, and besides, even they wouldn't let us through if they knew why we were going –"

"Yes, yes," said Ali, waving his hand to stop the gush of explanations. "I fully understand the situation now. And come to think of it I _do_ have an old rug or two somewhere..."

I felt Juliet's whole body tauten with excitement next to me, as my stomach contracted with panic. I swallowed. I'd been readying myself for this situation, although I'd never really thought we would pull it off. Ali was going to help us. Juliet's mad plan could actually happen, there was no going back from here. I bit my lip. Well, I'd figured long ago that I was going to stick with my sister. She'd probably do something crazy like head to the Middle East alone otherwise, and if I only went along to try to look after her, well, that's what I had to do.

"That's – that's brilliant – thank you! Thank you so much! How much will it cost to hire one, please?" asked Juliet. "For, say, a week? I hope we have enough..."

"For a week I would _usually_ ask one hundred Galleons," said Ali carefully.

"Oh," said Juliet, looking at Ali, devastated, then at me, knowing the exchange rate from previous trips to Gringotts. "That's – that's about five hundred pounds!"

Juliet had been saving up her pocket money and Christmas and birthday money religiously for months, I knew, and she'd badgered me to do the same just for this situation. Still, we'd pooled our money before we came and counted it. We had just over one hundred pounds between us, which had seemed to both of us an enormous amount of money.

"But," Ali said, "We can come to an arrangement, perhaps. How much do you girls have?"

Juliet swallowed. "About – about twenty Galleons, I think...and some Sickles..."

She petered out. Twenty Galleons sounded pathetic when the price was one hundred. We'd need more, surely – lots more, even at a discount. But Ali's next pronouncement shocked us both.

"I will do it for fifteen," he said casually. "You can change the other five Galleons to Iranian currency at Gringotts - perhaps you will need it there to be successful."

"Well – thank you! Thank you so much!"

"Now, when do you need the carpet? We will meet at a pre-arranged time and place – it will be night, naturally, to avoid detection – and I will instruct you both in its safe use."

"Well...I guess...it'll have to be sometime this summer, in the holidays," said Juliet slowly, and I nodded. This Easter was too soon. We'd have to hatch a solid plan to fool Mum and Dad about our whereabouts for a whole week. "Um, July maybe? Can we arrange all the details by letter?"

Ali agreed amicably to all of this, we paid him a deposit, and he rose from his chair, flicking his wand as he did so. The lock clicked, the sign on the door span round to read 'OPEN', and the lamps brightened. He bowed at us as we started to leave, but Juliet paused as she turned the door handle.

"Please, Mr Bashir," she said curiously. "Why are you so keen to help us that you'll let us hire the carpet for fifteen Galleons?"

Ali looked at us both, his expression shrewder than ever, then spread his hands. "My youngest grandson is a Squib," he said softly. "The first in a long line of Bashirs and his mother, my daughter, is devastated. I will be – interested – to see if the Djinn can be persuaded...goodbye now..."

And he nodded to us both before disappearing through the trapdoor and back into his basement. The ragged black bird, swinging in its high-up cage, creaked at us as we left.


	23. Squeeze Lane

_June 2020_

Juliet

"Told you...he _really_ likes crumpets," said Hugo, tossing another into the lake. A massive tentacle broke the surface and whisked the crumpet off the surface of the water. Shortly after, an appreciative bubble rose to the surface.

"I can't believe you even butter them for it...that is one spoiled squid." I glanced at him. Now seemed as good a time as any to ask. "Um, Hugo? I've been wondering if you could maybe do me a favour?"

Hugo squinted at me.

"What kind of favour?"

"Um – well – it's just –" I swallowed, trying to get a grip on myself. "Jennifer and I need to get away from our parents this summer, for a week. Only, it's really important they don't find out where we actually are. The thing is...I was wondering if they could – you know – think we're staying with you?"

There was a very long pause. "Hang on," Hugo said eventually, rubbing his forehead with the heel of his hand. "Why are you trying to hide from your parents? And why d'you need to ask me? You could just tell them that's where you are."

"Because – because they need to _really_ think I'm at yours," I said, avoiding the first question. "We went away once before, just for a weekend, and got found out, and they both went totally through the roof, so it would just be – incredibly helpful if –"

"Look, Juliet," Hugo interrupted. He looked very serious. "Is this, by any chance, anything to do with you trying to make Jennifer a witch?"

I'd hoped he might have forgotten our conversation last year. When I didn't answer, annoyed at his astuteness, Hugo gave a thoughtful nod, blowing gently out of the side of his mouth.

"So what's your plan, then?"

I shook my head. "It doesn't matter. If it works, I'll tell you all about it! How about that?"

"No _way,_ Juliet. What if something goes wrong, and you don't come back, and I haven't the foggiest idea where you are?" He crossed his arms. "Nope. Tell me, or I don't help at all."

"Oh-h-h..." I groaned, sitting down heavily on the grass. "Fine. But don't judge, okay? Promise?"

"You got it."

As I briefly outlined our plan, Hugo's mouth fell open slightly and his eyes grew wider and wider. When I finished, he had a visible struggle with himself.

"Juliet, that's totally mental."

I glared at him. "You _just_ said you wouldn't judge!"

Hugo ran his hands over his hair distractedly so that it stood up, a shock of red. "Yeah, I know, but – why do you think all the Squibs don't – Juliet, you could _die_! You could! Both of you!"

"Don't say that! We won't _die_. Oh, Hugo, look, we're going to go, whatever, and I don't want to leave a note for my parents and disappear for a week, they'll go _frantic_. Please help us, it'll be so much better if they think we're safe with you!"

I felt tears spring to my eyes, as I felt our plan nose-diving when it had barely got off the ground. Hugo distractedly squashed a flower he'd picked from the grass, shaking his head.

"Please, Hugo," I said again, quietly. "We really need your help."

Hugo was silent for a long time, then at last he dropped the mutilated flower to the ground and ground it into the mud with the toe of his shoe. "Right, well. I'll help. On one condition. If I cover for you, I can come too."

It was my turn for my mouth to drop open. "What? Don't be ridiculous. You can't come."

"Why not?"

"Because – because – why would you want to come?" I finished, lamely.

"Why d'you think?" Hugo was a little pale but looked calm enough. "You might need me. You're getting tangled up with the Djinn, of all things..."

I stared at him for ages, overwhelmed. "But aren't you scared?"

"Well, obviously. But I'd feel a thousand times worse sat at home. If anything happened to you and Jen...I'd just...I couldn't live with that, you know? So that's my condition."

"Oh, Hugo," I said at last. "You _should_ be in Gryffindor."

Hugo pulled a face. "Don't _you_ start. It's bad enough with Dad as it is...oh, um..."

On an impulse, I'd reached out and gave Hugo a quick one-armed hug, which he returned awkwardly. "All right, you can come," I said softly. "Thanks, Hugo. You're the best."

Hugo shrugged, embarrassed. "Whatever. Just tell me what to do..."

* * *

 _July, 2019_

As soon as I was back home for the summer holidays, I began to gather everything together that I figured we would need for our trip: clothes, tins of food, chocolate, maps, a couple of useful books I'd not returned to the Hogwarts library last term.

I'd come round to the idea of Hugo joining us, although Jennifer had been horrified I was involving him. He'd already turned out to be a massive help. Having told his family that he was invited to stay with us for a week sometime this summer, his mum was going to connect our house to the Floo Network, so that he could get to us. She wouldn't know, of course, that we would then use it to travel elsewhere, together: where, we didn't know yet. That depended on Ali Bashir.

Hugo also wrote to say he'd bring their family tent, so we could pitch up in the desert when we got there. Apparently it looked totally ordinary, but was enchanted so it was like a small house inside, with a kitchen and bathroom and everything. Even Jennifer showed a flicker of interest when she read this.

"See, Jen?" I told her. "That's just one reason why magic is awesome!"

Jennifer smiled and shrugged. "Yeah, it is. I'm just not counting my chickens, you know..."

Two days later we received a single letter, unsigned, from a very plain brown owl. Ali had completely altered his handwriting, but it had to be from him.

 _Midnight, July twenty-seventh, Godric's Hollow. Outside The Rolling Badger tea shop on Squeeze Lane. The password is 'sphinx'. Don't reply. Do not be late._

 _What's Godric's Hollow?_ I asked Hugo in my next letter. _And please could you call soon, to invite us to stay for a week from July twenty-seventh?_

I didn't hear anything for several days, and started getting nervous.

"D'you think Hugo's changed his mind?" I asked Jennifer, one morning, in our bedroom. Jennifer was curled on the beanbag, reading some book about atoms. The summer sun slanting through the window fell on her head and neck, turning her dark hair coppery-brown. "Do you reckon he's trying to stop us going?"

"Juliet, you've asked me this five times in two days," Jennifer said irritably, looking up from her book. "He doesn't have a phone in the house, remember? He has to slip down to the village and use the phone box."

"Yeah...I know...but what if..."

"Stop _worrying_ , Juliet! Look, Aunt Ada should be here any minute, let's go downstairs."

Aunt Ada was coming for Sunday lunch, as she often did when I was home for the holidays. We always looked forward to her visits, and it felt as though she'd been part of the family forever, not just a year. We walked into the living room just as she Apparated onto the hearth rug with a faint _pop!_ She wore summery robes, a soft cream patterned with violets, and a floaty lilac scarf.

"Aunt Ada!"

"How are my lovely girls?" she said, beaming and putting down Patty's cage to give us a hug. "Now, _do_ tell me how you are both getting on at school..."

The phone rang an hour later, as we were all sat around the garden table tucking into ham, quiche and salad, listening to Aunt Ada and Mum discuss magical plants.

"Oh, bother," said Mum, glancing towards the house. "Girls, would one of you run in and get that?"

I was closest, so put down my knife and fork and ran back to the house, picking up just before the answer phone cut in.

"Hello?"

"Ah, good afternoon," said a deep voice. "Is that Fiona? It's Arthur Weasley here."

"Oh!" I said in surprise. "Hello, Mr Weasley. It's – it's Juliet. Um..."

"Juliet?" said the voice, changing completely. "Hi! It's me!"

"Hugo? Oh, right! Brilliant –"

"Yeah, but can you let me speak to your parents quickly?" said Hugo, cutting through me in a hurry. "I borrowed a Muggle coin from Grandpa's collection to use the phone box and the screen says I only have six minutes."

I ran to the garden, as Hugo added in my ear, "Godric's Hollow, by the way – it's a village in North Somerset. Loads of witches and wizards live there."

"Thanks!" I whispered, and held out the phone to Dad. "It's Arthur Weasley, Hugo's Grandpa."

Dad took the phone.

"Oh, hello Arthur, how are you? Good – that's good...Oh, well, that's _extremely_ kind of you all...yes...oh, I see... well, I imagine they would love to - just a moment –" He broke off and looked over at us. "Girls, the Weasleys are going camping for a week on Exmoor, would you like to join them?"

"Oh, yes, definitely!" I nodded enthusiastically and nudged Jennifer, who bobbed her head too.

"Yes, that's fine by us...next Saturday...you'll send Hugo to pick them up...right-o..."

By the time Dad had hung up the phone, I knew everything was going to be okay. Hugo had obviously been very convincing.

"How lovely of them," Aunt Ada said, beaming. "I'm so glad you've made a good friend, Juliet. It makes all the difference, doesn't it? And camping on Exmoor, how wonderful. I wonder if they'll take you to Godric's Hollow, it's an interesting old place on the edge of the moor. I lived there for a while myself before the war. The Dumbledores and the Potters both lived there once, you know..."

The conversation moved on, and I gave Jennifer a little smile. I was buzzing with excitement, but she was very quiet for the rest of the meal.

* * *

 _Two weeks later_

"Afternoon, everyone," said Hugo politely, as the green flames died down and he stepped neatly out of the fireplace.

"Hi, Hugo!" I said, trying to contain my excitement.

"Thank you for coming to get the girls," Mum said. "They've got everything they need for camping, I think."

"And no need for great unwieldy suitcases," said Dad enthusiastically. "It's all in their little magic bags their aunt gave them. All that stuff...in their pockets!"

"Great, that's...great," said Hugo awkwardly. I noticed that his ears had turned pink.

"Where are you getting the Floo to, in Exmoor?" Dad asked.

"To the wizarding pub in a village called Godric's Hollow," Hugo replied quickly, ready for this question. "My family are meeting us there and we can walk to the campsite, it's not far away. Well, um – shall we?"

"Have a lovely time, girls," said Mum, beaming and giving first Jennifer, then me, big hugs.

"We will," Jennifer whispered. "Bye, Mum."

Dad squeezed our shoulders and I instantly felt hot guilt rise up inside me.

"See you in a week," I croaked, hoping my face wasn't giving everything away.

I avoided their gaze as I took a big pinch of Floo Powder from the pouch Hugo offered me, and followed him through with a shout of " _The Green Griffin, Godric's Hollow!_ "

Moments later, I fell onto a green woven hearth rug. I picked myself up, and tumbled right over again as Jennifer crashed into the back of my legs.

"Ouch! Sorry, Juliet..."

"That's okay!" I gasped, as Hugo pulled us both to our feet, grinning at our ineptitude.

I dusted myself off and looked around, as the fire behind me shrank back down to low, merry crackling flames. It must be quite usual for people to come to Godric's Hollow this way: our arrival didn't seem to have come as much of a surprise to the few witches and wizards frequenting the little pub, which was dark but not dingy, unlike the Leaky Cauldron. The floors looked well swept and the polished ebony tables were surrounded by old, comfy-looking armchairs. A large, carved wooden griffin stood in one corner. It looked friendly rather than threatening, rather like an old pet dog.

"All righ' there, duckies?" A plump, elderly witch with straggly white hair stuck her head out of a door behind the bar. "Just arrived, 'ave yeh? Can I get yeh summat? We got some lovely soup, leek an' bacon today. Plenty of bacon in it, too. Sticks to yer stummick, that do, I tell yeh."

She pointed at a colossal cauldron suspended over a large fire on the other side of the room, which was stirring itself slowly as it bubbled and steamed.

"Er," Hugo said. "Actually, well, we're just meeting our family in Squeeze Lane, could you possibly tell us how to get there?"

"Oh." The landlady looked disappointed. "Oh, everyone's off there these days...them fancy cafés. Tea an' scones! What's wrong with good pub grub, I say...well, never mind. Jus' you turn left out the door an' Squeeze Lane's about a hundred yards along. Bring 'em back for some o' this soup if they be proper hungry, mind."

"Thanks," Hugo said, heading for the door, and I nodded at the landlady politely as I passed. But she wasn't looking at me. She was tilting her head and peering at Hugo curiously.

"Now, then, aren't you the Prime Minister's littlest 'un? I remembers seein' yeh in _The Daily Prophet_ last year with yer sister an' yer parents. There were a feature on yer family."

"Oh, no, that's not me," said Hugo quickly, reaching for the door knob. "That's – my cousin. Second cousin, actually...we're not that close..."

"Really?" The old witch looked interested. "What's yer name, then? Who are yer mum an' dad?"

"I'm...Sidney. Sidney Weasley. You won't know my parents, nobody knows them, we're really distantly related to the famous Weasleys, anyway, thanks for your help – 'bye, then!"

"All righ' then...'bye, duckies..."

Hugo closed the door behind us and wiped his brow, looking at me apologetically. "Sorry about that," he said.

My stomach was jangling with nerves. "I hadn't realised you were that famous in the wizarding world," I said, as we turned left and made our way down the main street, evidently the village centre. All of the shops I could see were Muggle shops: banks, a butchers, a little Co-op supermarket, a couple of chain clothing stores...it didn't look like a wizarding village at all.

"You must hate that, people recognising you," Jennifer said to Hugo, sympathetically. " _I'd_ hate it."

"Definitely," said Hugo. "It doesn't happen often, but I wish it didn't happen at all."

"Yeah, and particularly not this trip," I said fervently. "If your parents find out you aren't staying with us this week, after all...have we missed Squeeze Lane, by the way?" I stopped abruptly, looking behind me. The painted wooden sign for The Green Griffin swung in the breeze way down the other end of the street, at least twice as far as we'd been told to go.

"I didn't see a turn off," Jennifer said. "I was looking."

"So was I," said Hugo.

I frowned. "Let's go back and check."

We walked the length of the street, looking both sides this time, but the only off-shoots before the pub were Church Row and Potter's Terrace.

"Potter's Terrace...that was renamed after Uncle Harry and his family," said Hugo, pointing. "It was in the paper a couple of years ago. The Ministry had to Confund a whole bunch of Muggles to get them to agree to the name change..."

"Well, aren't you full of useful facts," I said testily.

Hugo looked hurt, and Jennifer glared at me, slipping her arm through his. "Ignore her, Hugo. She's just crabby because we can't find this stupid lane."

"Well, where is it?" I said, impatiently. "It was supposed to be just – hang on..."

I squinted up the road. I was pretty sure I had just seen something odd, but it had happened so fast I wasn't sure if I was imagining things.

"Let's go back up this way," I said, rapidly retracing our steps halfway along the street before throwing out my arm to stop the others.

"What are you doing, Juliet?"

"Just stay here a minute, watch the street next to that greengrocer..."

It was late afternoon, and the shops were beginning to close; Muggles were finishing up their shopping and making their way home for dinner...amidst the Muggles, through, I spotted a few people I was fairly sure were witches and wizards, slightly ineptly disguised. A man with a crinkly brown beard wearing a mismatched suit...an elderly couple with identical blue bowler hats... I stared intently at the spot where I thought I'd spotted something, and at last it happened again. A short, plump woman in a lime green flowery sari, glancing at her watch as she hurried past the tables of fruit and vegetables, glancing surreptitiously at a couple of Muggles nearby; she waited until they had walked past, then walked purposefully into the wall between the greengrocer and the neighbouring bakery. A second later, she vanished. To anyone who wasn't looking carefully, it would have looked as though she had gone into the shop.

"There! Did you see that?"

"Yes, I did," said Hugo. "Good spot, Juliet."

We made our way to the wall just as the grocer came outside. He moved his tables of fruit and vegetables inside, glancing at us without curiosity, evidently impatient to leave. A minute later he'd turned off the light, flipped the sign on his door to 'Closed', and locked behind him, tipping his hat to us as he strode away. I glanced around. There was nobody else close.

"Let's go," I said, and leaned against the wall, eager to get through. A second later I tilted sideways and found all the breath squeezed instantly from my lungs as the world before my eyes went horribly wrong – squashed as though the whole street was made of rubber, and a giant had his hands on either side and was pushing them firmly together. If I could have screamed, I would have when I saw my arms and legs, stretched like spaghetti...flailing in panic, I inched further through, as though swimming in a thick jelly; then I felt myself pop suddenly free and crash onto hard cobblestones, gasping as the air returned to my lungs and the houses righted themselves. I got to my feet, shakily, and turned to see a hand in mid air, stretching in obvious terror. Jennifer's hand. I grabbed it and pulled; the air made a sucking sound as she stumbled out, white as a sheet, gripping Hugo's arm behind her. He followed suit, gasping like a fish out of water.

"Well, that was unpleasant," I said eventually, when we'd got our breath back. "I guess we know why it's called Squeeze Lane."

"Well, aren't you full of useful facts," Hugo muttered, under his breath.

I felt myself blush. "Sorry about earlier," I said, and I meant it. "That was rude. I was just kind of, you know. Freaking out, thinking we wouldn't find this place...after everything."

Hugo paused, then shrugged. "Yeah, I know. Forget it. Hey, this place is kind of cool..."

The little narrow lane was packed full of wizarding shops, reminiscent of Diagon Alley, although clearly more countrified and less upmarket. There were no expensive modern racing brooms in the window of Swift's Broomsticks, there was an absence of ice cream parlours and grand marble banks; but there _were_ plenty of interesting-looking bakeries and tea rooms in half-timbered buildings, inviting-looking wizarding gift shops, and a thatched post office with owls swooping in and out of the narrow windows. Of course, everything was closed now, and the only people about were shop keepers locking up and leaving, just like their Muggle greengrocer counterparts...and the plump witch in lime-green hurried past us, looking disappointed, her shopping bag clearly empty. I watched her disappear into the empty air without even screwing her face up in anticipation. I guess you got used to the squeezing sensation if you came here all the time.

"What's the tea shop we're meeting at called?" Hugo asked.

"The Rolling Badger," I said. "Funny name...oh, there it is!" I pointed. A yellow wooden sign had jumped out at me a little further down the lane, and I could see the painted badger turning over in a somersault. The whole front of the teashop was painted sunshine yellow and glancing inside I spied yellow tablecloths and tiny badgers rolling all over the wallpaper.

"Someone's proud to have been in Hufflepuff," Hugo said with a laugh. "Crikey."

At that moment a witch slipped out of the shop, locking the door behind her with a tap of her wand. She was wearing a bright yellow apron and looked at us inquisitively with merry eyes, brushing a lock of dark hair away from her face. Immediately, I felt a jolt of recognition; this had to be Ali Bashir's sister. I wondered for a moment if they were twins. She looked just like a female version of Ali, but fundamentally different: warm, open and friendly, someone you instinctively trusted.

"Oh, I'm sorry, dears," she chirped. "We've just closed. Come back tomorrow! The biscuits melt in your mouth...I shouldn't say that, 'cause I make them myself, but, well, it's true!"

She gave us a cheery wave over her shoulder as she bustled away.

"Right then," I said. "We've found the place...now we have...seven hours to wait."

"Seven _hours_?" said Hugo, looking astonished.

"Yeah, he said meet here at midnight. Well, I couldn't ask you to come and pick us up at eleven o'clock, could I? Mum and Dad would never have believed that's when wizards start their camping trips...besides, I wanted to leave plenty of time to find it."

"Oh...all right then," said Hugo, though he didn't look very happy. "Well, I'm starving. Want to go somewhere to eat? We'll have to go back to the Muggle street, everything's shut here."

"I guess...we can get something from the Co-op. I'd go back to The Green Griffin, if the landlady hadn't recognised you..."

"Yeah, I wouldn't mind some of that leek and bacon soup..."

"Sticks to yer stummick, that do," added Jennifer in a broad Somerset accent, and Hugo and I snorted with laughter. I smiled at Jennifer as we made our way back up the street.

"You okay?" I squeezed her hand.

"Yeah, thanks. I'm still nervous about the whole thing. But...well, it _is_ kind of exciting. The wizarding world's pretty cool."

" _Exactly_. C'mon, let's find some food..."

It was much better travelling back through the entrance the second time; ready for the Squeeze, I didn't get trapped in it for long. I forced my way through determinedly in a couple of seconds and was stepping out onto the Muggle street outside before I knew it, hardly out of breath. Jennifer and Hugo followed, also without much trouble.

Half an hour later we sat in the church garden, munching slightly stale, reduced-price tuna sandwiches from the Co-op and drinking cans of fizzy drinks. We shared a large bag of cheese-and-onion crisps and a big bar of Cadbury's fruit and nut chocolate. Hugo nibbled a small piece of this, curiously, then looked at the rest of his piece appreciatively and ate it in three enormous bites, washing it down with Diet Coke.

"This Muggle food isn't half bad," he said.

"Well, you might get tired of it after this week," I warned him. "We've brought loads of food, but it's stuff that we can transport, that also won't go off in the heat and that we know how to cook. I hope you like pasta with tinned tomatoes and tuna. And Smash."

"What on earth's Smash?"

"Kind of like mash. Only made with rehydrated powdered potatoes."

Hugo looked repelled.

"Don't worry," Jennifer added hastily. "We also brought _loads_ of chocolate..."

The next few hours passed quite quickly, as we wandered around Godric's Hollow in the cool of the summer evening. It was a quaint little village centred around an old church and market square. Hugo was keen to find the memorial to his Uncle Harry's parents, which turned out to be pretty interesting (he told us a bit more about the war, and what the Potters had done to help defeat Lord Voldemort). Afterwards, we wandered around the graveyard in the gathering gloom, as Hugo pointed out the many graves of witches and wizards from famous wizarding families.

When it got too dark, and too cold, to stay outside, we slipped into the church and sat down on the pews.

"I might have a nap," Jennifer's voice said in the darkness next to me. "I'm tired already...and we're going to be travelling tonight."

I heard Hugo give an enormous yawn. "Me too..."

"We can't sleep past midnight," I warned them.

"I'll put an alarm on my phone..." said Jennifer. I saw her face light up in the glow from her phone as she tapped the screen quickly. "There; it'll go off at eleven thirty. That's plenty of time to get back to Squeeze Lane..."

When she switched off the screen, the inside of the church seemed much darker than before; I stretched out, shifting uncomfortably on the hard wood. Hugo's clothes rustled as he turned, on the pew next to Jennifer; there was a small sigh from one of them. I was sure I couldn't possibly nap. I was tense with anticipation, and lying on a hard pew in a strange church miles from home...but my eyelids were heavy, and before I knew it I was drifting off into deep sleep...

Hours later, the loud bleeping of Jennifer's phone brought me back to my senses with a jolt of panic; I scrambled to my feet in confusion...until I suddenly remembered where we were. Jennifer had dropped the phone when she woke and it slid under her pew, still bleeping, the horrible shrill noise magnified twenty times in the old stone church.

"Turn it off!" Hugo sounded panicked.

"I'm trying! I've got it..."

The noise stopped and all three of us sighed with relief.

"Right, let's get out of here," I said quietly. "Hopefully nobody heard that racket."

We made our way to the big wooden church doors and Hugo, in front of me, stopped short. I heard the doors creak and shudder.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm...trying to open them," Hugo said. "Wait a minute...oh, no."

Panic rose in my chest. "You've _got_ to be joking." I rattled the doors, fiercely. Neither of them budged.

"Someone's locked it for the night?" asked Jennifer, in a tiny voice. "We're – trapped?"

"No! No, we're _not_ trapped! We have to get to Squeeze Lane in twenty-five minutes!" I pulled out my wand. "It's okay, I can open it. _Alohomor-_ OW! What was that for?"

Hugo had grabbed my arm, fiercely, in the dark, stopping me performing the spell.

"Juliet! You can't use magic out of Hogwarts!"

"What are you on about? Don't be silly," I said, bewildered. "That's just a guideline for parents so kids don't cause havoc at home, right? No one's going to know if I unlock this door, are they?"

"Oh, aren't they?" Hugo said fiercely to me. "You really don't know, do you? The Ministry tracks all magic around underage witches and wizards, all the time. They'll know instantly. You can only get away with it if you're with an adult, then they can't tell whose spell it is."

" _Seriously?_ Oh...well...honestly...how much do they care?"

"Enough to get you expelled. You only get one warning, I think."

"Oh, you get a warning? Right then. This'll be mine. _Alohomora!_ "

I hear Hugo gasp as the doors clicked open and we were flooded in moonlight.

"Are you crazy?"

"Stop calling me that...and _hurry!"_ I snapped, pulling them away from the church. "Ali said we can't be late!"

Just minutes later, as we hurried back towards Squeeze Lane, an owl swooped down at me and dropped a letter on my head with a screech. I caught it as it tumbled down and stuffed it into my pocket.

"That'll be your warning," said Hugo grimly, as we reached the entrance to Squeeze Lane.

"I don't care," I told him. "I'm not missing our big chance because of one locked door. Come on...let's go – we'll be late unless we run."

We shoved our way through the Squeeze and ran, as silently as we could, to The Rolling Badger. The deserted street was unlit, and the only sound was the mournful cries of owls around the Post Office. I knocked gently on the tea shop door. Nobody answered. Hugo peered through the glass.

"Looks empty," he whispered.

Jennifer coughed. "The password, Juliet. Remember?"

"Oh, of course – sphinx, _sphinx!_ "

The door swung open immediately, in complete silence, and with a thrill I saw the silhouette of a small, slightly hunched man in the doorway.

"Ali – Mr Bashir – it's us," I said breathlessly.

There was a sharp intake of breath. The man didn't step aside.

"Who is this? What are you doing here?"

My insides went cold. What could he mean? I swallowed. "It's – Mr Bashir, we arranged to meet you here tonight! It's Juliet Belstone and my sister Jennifer, and we've brought our friend Hugo Weasley," I said, glancing back at Jennifer and Hugo, panicking now.

"Weasley? Hugo? _Arthur Weasley's grandson_?"

"Y-yes – but –"

" _Spy!_ " Ali hissed, and Hugo backed away.

"No, sir – I – honest –"

Before any of us realised what was going to happen, there was a sudden, blinding flash of light from Ali's wand.

" _Obliviate!_ "


	24. Flight of the Magic Carpet

Juliet

" _Silencio!"_ Ali hissed as I opened my mouth to scream, and I found myself dragged inside the tea shop gulping soundlessly, cold with terror. My tongue formed words that died on my lips. Ali pulled Jennifer in after me, her mouth open in a silent shriek and her eyes wide with panic. Hugo was stirring limply on the pavement when Ali pointed his wand at him again.

Terrified that he was going to do something even worse, I grabbed Ali's arm, throwing off his aim. He shook me off with surprising strength and pointed his wand at me, snarling. Even in the near darkness I could see the threat in every line of his face. He meant business. I shrank back and Ali muttered a couple of spells in Hugo's direction so that his body went suddenly totally stiff – the Body-Bind Curse, I realised – then was yanked as though by an invisible fishing line into the shop, and dragged across the floor to the far corner of the room. The tea-shop door shut with a snap and I heard the click of the lock. Next to me I could hear Jennifer breathing in short, sharp, terrified gasps. She was hyperventilating. I put my arm around her waist and squeezed it tight, trying to communicate without words. _We'll be okay. Stay calm._

Ali faced us, wand lifted threateningly.

"I'm going to lift the Silencing spell now so we can talk," he said softly. "But the second one of you screams you both join your little friend in that corner, understood?"

I met Jennifer's eyes in the gloom and she nodded at me frantically. I nodded at Ali, trying to quell the panic that flooded me every time I glanced at Hugo's prone body.

" _Sonorus_."

We both coughed and spluttered as the curse lifted and as soon as I could speak I pleaded, "Mr Bashir, Hugo honestly meant no harm, he was just coming to help us –"

"Arthur Weasley has been trying to find out the place from which I operate these transactions for nearly forty years," Ali interrupted, glaring at us fiercely. "And you thought you'd invite his _grandson_ along for a ride? I've a good mind to wipe your memories too and send you right back home."

Jennifer gasped. "Is – is that what you did to him? Wiped his memory? Oh, poor Hugo..."

"Please, don't, Mr Bashir," I begged. "Remember your own grandson...the one without magic? We're going to find out if the Djinn can be persuaded to grant Squibs magic...let us go...for his sake."

Ali considered this for a while, silently, fingering his wand. Eventually he muttered, _"Pah!_ " under his breath and jerked his head at us, indicating that we follow. He walked to a little door at the back of the shop and we followed, tentatively.

"The carpet is out here," Ali told us, opening the door onto a little courtyard. The moon shone through, illuminating the tea-shop with its pale silver light. "Come."

"But –" We both hung back, looking over at Hugo. In the moonlight I saw his eyes were open now. They were unfocused and he looked sick.

"Your friend will be fine," said Ali impatiently. "He simply won't remember the trip here. He'll just get away with a bump on his head where he hit the pavement, which is less than he deserves. I'll send him home as soon as you two have gone."

"Oh, no, you can't do that!" I said, horrified. "His parents think he's staying with us for a week. If you send him home they'll check – our parents will find out we're gone –"

"And why in Merlin's name would that matter to me?" Ali said, impatiently. "What do you think I'm going to do, babysit the brat?"

I glanced at Jennifer, biting my lip in panic. She gave me a helpless shrug. Then it hit me in a flash of inspiration.

"You'll have to," I said triumphantly. "Hugo's mum's the Minister for Magic, as you know. You want her investigating what happened to us all, this week? You won't just have Arthur Weasley to contend with. You'll have the entire Ministry on your back if you send Hugo - or all of us - back like that, now."

Ali was staring at Hugo's body in the corner, his lips moving in silent curses.

"Unless – unless you give him his memory back," I said daringly. "And we'll all promise not to say a word about all this."

Ali gave a bark of humourless laughter. "I wouldn't do that even if it were possible to reverse the spell, which it isn't. But, very well. I'll get my sister to look after him for a week, somewhere hidden. She never asks too many questions. Then I will wipe his memory again and you can take him back to his parents. Now, do you want this carpet or not?"

I looked over sadly at Hugo one last time. I felt awful for leaving him like this, but I'd make it up to him sometime. Suddenly, I saw the little backpack hooked over Hugo's rigid right arm. The backpack containing his family tent!

"Yes, but wait," I said, hurrying over to him. "We need his bag."

Ali watched me closely as I tugged the backpack loose and slung it over my shoulder, then beckoned us impatiently into the courtyard.

"I'm so sorry, Hugo..." I whispered as I left him looking up at me in dazed confusion. "You'll be okay, honest. See you soon."

The carpet lay in the centre of the courtyard, looking perfectly ordinary; an old, rolled up rug.

Ali looked down at it and spoke softly. "They are ready."

As though it had been waiting, the carpet instantly unfurled, in a long rippling motion. We stepped back as it spread full length across the paving stones, breathtakingly beautiful in the silvery moonlight; a magnificent Persian carpet, woven with intricate decorative patterns in deep blues and purples. It was also pretty huge, for it would have covered the floor of a fair-sized room. I was glad to see this. I'd feel pretty safe high up in the sky on this; not like the Thestral, where falling off and plummeting thousands of feet to my death had seemed a very real possibility.

"Magic carpets are nothing like brooms," Ali told us in the same low voice. "They are far superior, and I use only the best. Each is handmade by master weavers in the Middle East. This one was woven in Syria three hundred years ago by a wizard famed in this craft at the time. There is magic running deep through every single thread. They are _aware_ , one might say. And the older the better, if the carpet is kept in good condition; this one has been on many thousands of flights, and has more experience flying than a witch or wizard who plays Quidditch from the cradle to the grave."

"So – we don't need to control it at all?" I asked, then jumped. I swear I saw one corner of the carpet give an irritable twitch.

"You never _control_ a carpet," said Ali sharply. "Even a newly woven one. And a master carpet such as this – why do you think I chose this particular beauty for you? Two completely inexperienced riders doing an eight-thousand-mile trip? Because I have faith in her, not _you_. Shari'im – that's her name – will get you there and back safely. You should be honoured to ride her."

I was speechless for a moment, gazing at the carpet. Jennifer, too, looked overwhelmed. But after a moment she squatted down and spoke gently to the carpet. "Thanks, Shari'im," she said, in a respectful voice. "I have faith in you, too."

The carpet rippled a little in response. Ali looked at my sister with more appreciation than he had shown either of us since our first meeting.

"There you go," he said approvingly. "That's about right."

"Mr Bashir," Jennifer said, standing up and returning his gaze. "Juliet read that magic carpets travel at high speed so they are perfect for long distances. How – how fast does Shari'im fly exactly, and how high? Sorry if this is a silly question, but I don't understand how – well – we won't get blown off, or frozen to death. I've been worried about it."

Ali gave her a crooked smile. He seemed to have warmed to my sister a little. "That won't be a problem," he assured her. "You will find it takes around half a day to travel to Iran; it would take at least two weeks by broom. So yes, she whips along. But part of Shari'im's integral enchantments are to ensure riders are safe and comfortable. It is like riding in a protective bubble, of sorts."

"Oh!" Jennifer said. "That's a relief. Thank you."

"Step on, then," said Ali. "I take it you have everything you need, aside from the Weasley boy's bag?"

"Yes – we have enchanted bags on us," I said, patting my jeans pocket as I got on, feeling the little lump of my magic silken bag – and something else. A crackle of paper. Frowning, I dug my fingers into my pocket and pulled out an official-looking letter. My warning from the Ministry for using magic earlier this evening to escape the locked church. In the ensuing excitement, I'd forgotten all about it.

"Oh..." I breathed, realising something for the first time. "Mr Bashir – I don't suppose you know if underage witches can use magic in Iran without being traced? Only I did magic earlier and they found out instantly. And – I'd feel better if I could use my wand, out there, if I need it."

"You will find that is not a problem," Ali said, shrugging. "The Trace on underage witches and wizards is upheld by our Ministry as part of British magical law enforcement. It doesn't extend to other countries. My own children would take advantage of the freedom when we took them on holiday. But be cautious, or you will bring the Yazdanis down on your necks."

"The what?" Jennifer said nervously, as she settled down on the carpet, cross-legged.

"I read about the Yazdanis," I said. "They're a very powerful Iranian family...they pretty much run the Iranian Ministry of Magic between them, right?"

"Right," said Ali. "So don't go shooting off spells in every direction or you'll find yourself locked up quicker than you can shout 'Squib'. Be discreet. And while you might not have got into my good books," – he glanced darkly back into the teashop where Hugo lay – "I'll want you coming home in a week's time so you can take the Weasley brat off my hands."

"Of course," I said quickly. "We'll be careful."

"Good..." breathed Ali. "Then it's time you were on your way. Just tell Shari'im where you would like her to take you."

I took a deep breath and gripped Jennifer's hand. This was it.

"Please, Shari'im," I said in a voice that only wobbled the tiniest bit, "We would like to go to the Great Salt Desert, in Iran, by the ruined temple of Kayazeh."

Beneath me I felt the carpet surge with life and lift into the air, rising slowly up above the walls of the courtyard as she navigated her way around an oak tree whose branches spread halfway over the courtyard.

"Be back in one week, same time, same place," I heard Ali say below us. "Under no circumstances return in daylight..." His voice cut out as suddenly as though I'd switched off a radio, and I looked back over the edge to reply, only to find in shock that we were somehow already several hundred feet up in the air and rising swiftly further, Godric's Hollow no more than a tiny cluster of lights which disappeared when I blinked...I froze, suddenly terrified that I was so close to the edge, when the carpet beneath me pulsed with life and flicked one great corner sternly inwards. I found myself rolling sharply back to the middle, when Jennifer sat looking amazingly serene.

"Have you realised how fast we're going?" I gasped.

"Well, yes," said Jennifer. "Shari'im has nearly four thousand miles to cover in half a day. That's nearly as fast as an aeroplane."

"I know that...I just wasn't expecting such a sudden take off...this is incredible, by the way." We were whipping through mist and cloud now, which slid over and around Shari'im leaving us untouched. A moment later we burst through the cloud mass and were simply soaring through the inky-blue night sky, stars glinting like jewels above us. There was no rush of whistling wind, no roar of an engine, just us and the silence, the sky and the stars.

Jennifer was smiling as she gazed upwards at the glittering trail of the Milky Way. "It's mind-blowing. And I'm not cold at all. It's like...sitting in our living room, only miles up in the air. I feel so tiny. Like – like an electron whizzing round an atom!"

By the way she breathed this last statement, gazing raptly ahead where we could both see the faint glow of dawn breaking along the curve of the earth, I knew she meant something special.

"You're so funny," I told her. "I have no idea what an electron is, but Ali is right...this _is_ the only way to travel! I - I just wish we hadn't left Hugo like that."

Jennifer's face clouded over. "I know. I feel horrible."

"So do I." We sat in silence for a while until Jennifer cleared her throat.

"Well," she said, "There's no point in worrying about him now. We'll make sure he's okay afterwards, that's all. And if he doesn't remember, he won't mind...I guess. Want some chocolate?"

"Always," I answered, and rummaged in Hugo's little backpack where we'd stashed the last of the Cadbury's fruit and nut. The inside was enchanted, like our bags, so there was an awful lot in there, including the tent. The chocolate, when I retrieved it, was slightly squashed but still tasted good. We broke off little pieces and shared them between us as we watched the sun slowly rise. Until now I had felt wide awake with adrenaline but when Jennifer yawned, I yawned too. She smiled and stretched out, Shari'im obligingly rippling below her to make her comfortable. I followed suit, suddenly feeling shattered. What a day. The carpet was soft, yielding and terribly cosy. Within minutes, I felt myself drifting off to sleep.

I woke, hours later, feeling totally refreshed and remembering instantly where I was when my eyes snapped open. The sun was incredibly bright and strong, making me wonder how I could have slept through its blinding whiteness, whilst shooting through the sky faster than a Thestral? I sat up to find Jennifer already awake, bent over a small purple book with 'DIARY 2019' on the cover in silver lettering.

"Hey," I said in surprise. "I didn't know you kept a diary." I was astonished and a little hurt. Diaries were for secret thoughts, weren't they? What was Jennifer writing in there that she didn't want me to see?

"Oh," said Jennifer, blushing and closing the book. "Well, I don't always. Just sometimes. I started the first year I was at Greenhill. You know – when I didn't want to worry you with the bullying. It helped to write it down, you know?"

"Yeah, because you wouldn't write to _me_ about it."

"Oh, _don't_ start that again, Juliet...anyway, you know this trip's been worrying me. I just find it helps me feel less anxious if I write a bit about it, so I bought this to take along. I've only been writing in here about Squeeze Lane, and how amazing the journey has been so far, anyway. And, also, look – oh, stop being a grump, and look –"

She flipped to the back of the book and held it out to me. Reluctantly, I looked. At the back of the diary was a little world map.

"It's got all sorts of useful stuff at the back, maps and international telephone codes and all that," said Jennifer. She pointed with her little finger to a spot on the map in Europe. "And I reckon we're about here at the moment. Over the Black Sea. See –" She gestured and I followed her gaze. Below was a great expanse of water, with a grey land mass on the far horizon.

"So ahead of us...?"

"Is Turkey," Jennifer said. "And that borders Iran! We'll be there in about three hours..."


	25. The Great Salt Desert

Jennifer

"That's it – that's it ahead!" I said, grasping Juliet's arm so suddenly she jumped. "I'm sure it is!"

"Oh, Merlin..."Juliet breathed, staring ahead with wide eyes. It was late afternoon, and for the last hour, we had been stretched out flat on our bellies, gripping Shari'im's tasselled edge and peering at the swiftly-changing landscape many miles below. Towns and cities were mere speckles amidst mountains, lakes and plains. And at last, what could only be the Great Salt Desert was rolling into view; a vast, greyish-yellow ocean of sand that stretched to the horizon, dune-rippled, as far as we could see.

My heart was beating so fast I started to feel dizzy. "Sheesh, Juliet," I said quietly. "I knew it was big – well, massive. Obviously. But I _couldn't_ imagine anything as big as this."

"I know what you mean," Juliet whispered back. Already we were over the desert, soaring far away from any kind of civilisation on the outskirts. "And - it's kind of scary being out here all alone. I wish Hugo was here. Or – or Mum and Dad."

I felt a lump rise in my throat. "Yeah, me too."

Neither of us said anything for a while after that, but we cuddled closer together, so our heads were touching. An old comfort position, which nearly made me feel better.

Almost imperceptibly, I felt Shari'im slowing beneath us, and she started to lose height. Soon, we were drifting down to earth, light as a falling feather, and then I saw below the ruins of what must have once been a magnificent temple.

"That's where we're landing," Juliet said. "The temple of Kayazeh. I looked it up. It's totally abandoned so no one should find us. And it's on the edge of one of the areas the Yazdani family made Unplottable, which means there must be Djinn somewhere nearby."

We drifted down alongside the temple ruins, and seconds later, Shari'im landed so softly it was a moment before either of us realised we had touched down on solid ground.

"Shari'im, that was incredible," I told the carpet, stroking it gently. "You're the smoothest flier _ever_."

"Yes, you're the best," Juliet added sincerely. "You made that journey seem so easy."

Our magnificent carpet rippled with evident delight and pride as we stood up and stretched. I stuffed my diary into my pocket and stepped onto the sand.

A second later, the heat hit me last a blast from a furnace and I shrieked in surprise.

"What, what?" Juliet yelled in panic, running to my side. A second later she'd doubled over, shielding her head with her arms. "Bloody hell!"

The moment we'd left the protective bubble over Shari'im, the full force of the midday desert heat had enveloped us both; it was like being in an oven, the sand below and the air around both blisteringly hot. Hopping from foot to foot, the heat already starting to penetrate the soles of my trainers, I looked around desperately for shade, but the only thing close was the ruined temple, which offered no cover at all.

"Quick, before we _roast_ to death!" I shouted, dragging Juliet back onto the carpet. But it was no good – the bubble seemed to have vanished.

"I think it's only there during the ride!" Juliet shrieked. "We need to get the tent up _now_ and get inside!"

She fumbled in her bag and started to pull out the tent when all of a sudden, Shari'im pulled herself free from underneath us, so that we toppled onto the baking-hot sand.

"Ow! What's – hey, don't leave!"

" _Shari'im!_ "

We both screamed in panic, scrambling to our feet as our carpet lifted up into the air, way above our heads.

"She's leaving us, Juliet! _She's leaving us!_ " This was it. We were going to die already, fried in the sun like helpless worms. I felt myself go dizzy with terror, when Juliet suddenly caught my arm.

"Oh, Jen, she's not leaving! Don't you see? She's shading us!"

I gaped, looking up. Shari'im was hovering patiently ten feet above, casting an enormous shadow. Although the baked sand was still reflecting heat upwards, I slowly realised it was bearable now. We could put up the tent. We wouldn't die.

"Shari'im _..._ I think I love you!" I called to her, as Juliet hastily unpacked the tent and pegs from its canvas bag.

It was a very small, simple A-frame tent and we put it up in just a few minutes, pushing the pegs easily into the soft sand. It looked tiny, nothing like a family tent. I couldn't wait to see inside.

"We're going in the tent now, Shari'im – _thank you_!" Juliet shouted upwards, and the carpet serenely started her descent as we crawled into the tent.

"Oh...it's so cool in here..." I sighed in relief, then straightened up. My mind was instantly blown. "Wow!" I breathed, totally floored. "This is – blimey – this is incredible."

"Bloody hell," Juliet said. "I always forget Hugo's family are rich. This tent must cost Galleons and Galleons."

We were standing in a large kitchen with a flagstone floor, complete with a solid wooden table, chairs, Aga, and even a serenely ticking grandfather clock. I pushed open the nearest door. It led into a hallway, off of which we found first a small washroom, then a sitting room. I squeaked in delight when I saw this...I couldn't help it.

"It's so cosy!"

There were squashy sofas, a patterned rug, and even bookcases filled with books. At the end of the hallway I spied a flight of stairs in cream-painted wood, and, glancing at each other, we ran up them, both starting to giggle. This was too weird. It turned out there was not only three clean, tidy and comfortable bedrooms upstairs, and a large family bathroom, but also another flight of stairs that led up to an attic room.

"This is messing with my head," I said, giving myself a shake. "Are you _sure_ we're in Iran? In the middle of a bloody great desert?"

"I literally cannot remember we're in a tent," Juliet agreed. "This is surreal. And, like – the best thing ever! Now _this_ is glamping!"

"Ooh...I bag this bedroom, by the way," I said quickly, pointing into a pretty one, whose bed was covered in a white bedspread patterned with bluebells.

"Aw, I wanted that one...but you can have it," grinned Juliet, squeezing my arm. "Seeing as I dragged you all this way. It must be Rose's bedroom...I'll take Hugo's."

We both sat down on Rose's bed and looked at each other. Juliet smiled at me hesitantly and after a moment I smiled back.

"Fair enough, Juliet," I said, though my sister hadn't spoken. "It was surprisingly easy and fun to get here, and we've got somewhere safe, not to mention awesome, to stay for the whole week. You've really thought this through, haven't you?"

"That is literally the first time anyone has admitted that," my sister laughed, giving me a hug. "Thanks. Now all I have to do is find a Djinn...at night, as I'm not leaving this house – I mean, tent – in this heat."

My stomach twisted again. The places the Djinn lived were Unplottable. As a plain Muggle, we'd figured I wouldn't be able to come with her...but the thought of Juliet wandering in the desert at night was almost unbearable. I gave a little shiver. A little voice in my head said, _was this_ too _easy?_

"I wish we'd brought a really long ball of string," I muttered. "I'd tie one end round your wrist and one end to a tent pole. What if you get lost, Juliet?"

"Well..." said Juliet, slowly. "Actually, I had an idea just now. I was going to use the compass spell so I wouldn't get lost – like this –" She got out her wand and laid it flat on her palm. " _Point me_." It span around, then came to a sudden halt. I watched with interest.

"Pointing north?" I guessed.

"Yep. But I was thinking just now – I wonder if I could just ask Shari'im to take me to a Djinn. Maybe she can sense where they are."

"Hey...that's definitely worth a shot," I said, with a spark of hope. "I bet she could, as well. She's so clever."

"Great, we'll try that!" said Juliet, jumping up. "Right, well, we've got a couple of hours before we should make dinner. What d'you want to do?"

"I'm going to have a shower," I said, very conscious that I hadn't washed since yesterday morning. "I feel disgusting."

"Yeah, me too," said Juliet. "Then later we can play a board game – I saw some in the sitting room..."

But after we'd showered, with the knowledge of Juliet's night-time venture hanging over us, I couldn't settle to anything, games or books. I found myself scribbling in my diary at intervals. Juliet was clearly irritated by this – she kept pestering me with random questions, trying to get my attention – but I ignored her. Writing down our adventures so far somehow stopped me worrying so much about what lay ahead.

At dinner time Juliet boiled some spaghetti and I stirred together a tin of tomatoes and a tin of tuna cautiously in a saucepan on the beautiful Aga.

"Is the spaghetti _supposed_ to clump together like this?" Juliet asked, poking the strands with a spoon.

"I don't think so...oh dear, I think my sauce is burning underneath. The tuna's all stuck."

"It's okay, let's just scrape it off...oh bother, I think the pasta is overcooked. Let's just stop now before it gets any worse."

We drained the spaghetti and hopefully mixed the whole mess together on two plates.

"Huh," I said. "Gluey _and_ burned."

"Mum makes it look so easy," Juliet said. "Oh well. I'm sure we'll get the hang of it this week."

We forced down the unappetising pasta as quickly as we could and had some chocolate for dessert.

"I reckon I could go out in a couple of hours, before it gets properly dark," Juliet said, glancing out of the window at the sun, which was now quite low in the sky.

"Okay," I said quietly, looking out at the endless desert, rippling with sand dunes. "Whenever you think best..."

The desert lost its heat surprisingly quickly. When the sun finally ducked below the horizon, it was still dimly light and the sand was warm. But we both shivered in a sudden cool breeze as we stood by Shari'im, who had rolled herself up, waiting patiently on the dusty sand.

"I really hope this works," Juliet said, looking out nervously at the featureless desert, which was almost silent apart from an eerie whisper of shifting sands. Behind us, the few windows which had not crumbled in the walls of the temple gaped at us like blank eyes. I shivered again.

Juliet took a deep breath.

"I'm ready," she said softly to Shari'im. The carpet unrolled in one fluid motion and lay before us, expectant.

"Juliet – be careful." It was all I could say, but I meant so much more as I gripped her hand. I didn't let go and she had to gently untangle my fingers from hers.

"I will. And I'll see you soon," she added bravely, stepping onto Shari'im. "I promise. Shari'im...I want to go to the nearest Djinn, wherever he or she lives. Can you take me there?"

There was a long pause. Shari'im twitched a few times, in an odd, reluctant manner, and I couldn't help feeling that she didn't want to go. She didn't lift into the air and I saw Juliet swallow as she looked at me, than out at the desert. If the carpet couldn't – or wouldn't – take her, she was going to have to walk out into that, alone. The reality seemed so much more terrible than both our imaginings and I felt my face crumple. This was just awful.

"Oh!" Juliet gave a soft cry and I looked up in surprise. The corner of the carpet nearest to me had lifted slowly and was curled in an S-shape, pointing directly at me.

"Me?" I said in confusion. "I can't go too, Shari'im. I'm not a witch. It'll be Unplottable for me..."

The corner of the carpet flicked inwards impatiently. The message couldn't have been clearer, and the moment I hesitantly stepped on, I felt her move beneath me. We sat in the middle, bewildered, as Shari'im rose gently in the air and began to travel away from the temple and the tent, at a height of just a few metres.

We looked at each other. "You're a Squib," said Juliet slowly. "Not a Muggle! And Shari'im knew you could get past the Unplottable charms – so we can meet this Djinn together!"

I sat in shock as the truth sank in.

"Oh...she really is the cleverest flying carpet in the world," I breathed, stroking her gently. "She must have felt it was better I came too. I'm so glad you don't have to go out alone – I was _so_ worried, you know."

"Nothing's ever so bad when we can stick together," Juliet said, squeezing my hand. "And by the time we've dealt with the Djinn, you'll be able to come to Hogwarts!"

"Maybe," I said. But I felt a sudden misgiving as I glanced over at Juliet. Now we were on our way, her face was ablaze with eagerness and confidence. I'd seen that look before.

"Just remember what we said," I said quickly. "We listen to the deal if the Djinn proposes anything, but we don't agree to it unless we are _sure_ it is safe. One hundred percent sure. And if not, we back out and go home. Right?"

"Jen," said Juliet suddenly, not answering me. "She's stopping already! We're here!"

Shari'im landed slowly on the sand, and when neither of us moved to get off, she gently pulled herself away from under our feet and tipped us onto the sand, before rolling herself up.

I sensed it the moment I walked off our carpet and onto the dusty sand. There wasn't a sound in the dark and endless desert, not a breath of air; it was terrible. I could feel straightaway that this whole place was impregnated with something ancient, and evil.

"Juliet," I whispered, suddenly more afraid than I had ever been in my life. I was hardly able to speak. "Juliet, let's go. We shouldn't be here – we've got to get back to the tent!"

I felt trapped, smothered and full of foreboding: it was as though some dreadful being was right behind us, but when I looked over my shoulder, trembling, there was nothing. Juliet stood wide-eyed, frozen, next to me, and I saw she was shivering too.

"Okay," she said suddenly. "This was a bad idea. Let's get out of here."

" _Leaving? But my_ dears _...you've only just arrived..."_

We both screamed as the ground in front of us erupted in a whirlwind of dust and sand, a putrid smell filling the air as the most monstrous creature clambered out: almost human, but grotesquely deformed with pupil-less white eyes and a leering mouth; part spirit, legless, its bottom half wreathed in swirling smoke. We toppled over as the sand shook beneath us and clutched each other. This was the end. I knew it. The Djinn was worse than I'd ever imagined, far more terrible than the picture in our book, and we both were going to die.

"PLEASE DON'T EAT US!" my sister screamed beside me, then choked in terror and fell silent as the Djinn loomed above us, stretching its mouth in a twisted smile. It started to laugh and we cowered as its breath – warm, dusty, smelling of vile old eggs – enveloped us.

"Eat you? Now, now...don't be silly...I'm just so pleased...to have _visitors_..." It said the last word in a hiss like a snake, looking delighted at the looks on our faces.

"Now come inside," the thing said, beckoning to us and starting to retreat to its hole. "And we'll have a little _talk_..."

We glanced at each other, then at Shari'im rolled up a couple of metres away, the same thought in our minds. Could we get away fast enough, or would the thing drag us underneath the earth, never to return?

 _Snap!_

There was a loud cackle and we cried out in horror as thin ropes flew from the Djinn's fingers to Shari'im and bound her tightly round both ends and her middle so that she wriggled and thrashed on the sand.

"I invited you inside," the Djinn said to us slowly, staring at us with its blank white eyes. It sounded menacing. "You dared disturb me...so, come..."

"No," I said suddenly, desperately. "Please – there's been a mistake. We'll be on our way now – _oh_!"

The Djinn had made a sudden grasping motion with its right hand and though it was several feet away I felt the grip around my waist like an iron band, and I stumbled forwards, unable to resist the pull towards the Djinn's den. Juliet staggered forwards too.

" _No one_ leaves without an explanation at the very least...dear, dear...that isn't _polite..._ "

The Djinn sank into the ground, cackling with malice, and looking at each other in quiet despair, Juliet and I followed, stumbling helplessly into the foul-smelling sinkhole in the sand that led down to its awful lair.


	26. The Lair of the Djinn

Juliet

Choking on the dusty sand, flailing helplessly, I felt myself sliding down – down – down – would it never end? – until suddenly my feet hit solid ground in the Djinn's suffocating pit, deep below the earth. My legs, limp as spaghetti, folded beneath me instantly and I collapsed on the sandy floor. The pit stank like vile eggs. My head was spinning, so at first I was only dimly aware of Jennifer falling beside me, then I realised one hand was flaring with pain: we were clutching each others' hand so tight we were crushing our fingers. Gasping, we let go at the same instant then stretched our arms out to each other. I hugged Jen close to me and she, too, held onto me as though she was afraid I would disappear. There was a low cackle and I looked up, dreading what I would see.

But we were seemingly alone in a small chamber, dimly lit with oil lamps. The floor, where it was not covered with ragged carpets, was bare sand. And we were surrounded by clutter: a weird assortment of objects, chairs and lamps, chests, cushions, ornaments, necklaces, statuettes, jewel-encrusted bowls, ancient-looking books, all grimy with disuse. Some of the objects were clearly magical. A small golden harp, covered in dust, played a strange, sweet ripple of chords as though a breeze had swept through its strings, but there was no breath of air in this sunken den. Jennifer gave a little moan next to me and I followed her gaze. I whimpered too, before I could help myself. Three human skulls hung by their hair from a hook in the ceiling, eye sockets gaping, yellow teeth bared in a grin.

"I see you admire my... _trophies_..." hissed the Djinn, emerging from a shadowy passage at the end of the room. The smell of evil intensified as it advanced and we both shrank back into the corner of the room. "Now...my _dears..._ tell me, what cause might you have to seek out little old me?"

I tried to speak but I couldn't. My mouth was completely dry and I was still rooted to the ground in all-consuming terror. We could die here and join those skulls hanging by our hair and Mum and Dad would never, ever know. Jennifer had her eyes closed next to me, now, and was deathly pale.

"No matter..." whispered the Djinn after neither of us spoke a word. "There is only ever one reason, after all...you must desire something very deeply. The question is... _how_ deeply, my dears? Come now. I'm waiting..."

I tried to wet my lips a few times with my dry tongue and eventually managed to croak out the words, "Please. W-we do want something. What – what must we do for you to get it?"

The thing gazed at me with its milky, pupil-less eyes and licked its lips with a revolting bluish tongue.

"It is your lucky day, little one...there _is_ something you can do for me. Something is missing from my _collection_..." It indicated the piles of strange objects all around us with a sweep of one flabby, putrid-looking arm. "Something which was stolen from me...all you would need to do is retrieve it..."

Jennifer spoke beside for the first time, her voice barely a whisper. "What was stolen from you?"

The Djinn moved closer to us both, leering horribly at my sister. "A _phoenix_..."it whispered back. "Oh, not a _real_ phoenix. A treasure. A little golden phoenix with ruby eyes. It was _mine_ and it was _taken_. If you can bring it to me, you may have a wish."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. We just had to bring the Djinn some trinket it had lost? That was it? I had imagined deals so terrible we would never agree, but this...I looked over at Jennifer, but she wasn't looking at me. She was staring at the Djinn, and she looked uneasy.

"If you don't mind me asking," she said quietly, "why can't you get it yourself?"

The Djinn flinched back, and I thought I read astonishment on its twisted features at my sister's cheek. " _Myself_?" it screeched, then gathered itself together, bending over us both again. "The golden phoenix is in the possession of the wizarding family who stole it from me...the Djinn do not _stroll_ out of the desert into the homes of wizards, you silly little child..."

"Well – where do they live, and how can _we_ stroll into the home of wizards and get it?" Jennifer asked timidly. "We come from Britain – miles and miles away – we don't know any cities here, we aren't dressed right, we don't speak the language. I don't think – we can't make this deal with you. I'm sorry. But I just don't think we'd manage to fulfil our side. And then –" Her eyes slid to the skulls, hanging and watching from their corner.

"Lay aside your fears," the Djinn said softly, looking first at my sister, then at me. "You think I would cast you out without aid and instruction? You forget that I _dearly_ want my very own treasure which was stolen from me. You would have most _adequate_ help to allow you to complete your side of this little transaction. We will both be winners, my dears. _"_

"What kind of help?" I said quickly, before Jennifer could answer.

"I possess magic more powerful than you could ever dream of, child," the Djinn hissed, rising upwards on its floating wreath of smoke to look down on us scornfully. "My illusory and befuddlement charms would see you to your end without difficulty. As for language, _pfft!_ We are conversing now, are we not? My magic can always overcome these little barriers. Simply drink from a potion of mine before you depart. You will both understand and be understood...and I'll transport you from here to a market near the house in which the phoenix rests..."

"Couldn't you transport us right into the room where it's kept?" I asked, thinking this would be far easier. "Then we could just grab it and come back."

The Djinn brushed one shoulder with a clawed hand in an impulsive, irritated movement, as though a fly had landed there. "Unfortunately that is not possible..." it said. "But I will send you close enough. Now...this is an agreeable exchange, is it not? A little golden phoenix for a wish. So...we have a deal?"

"Wait," Jennifer said suddenly, tugging at my wrist. She spoke quietly but I could hear the suppressed panic in her voice. "Juliet...I still...I just feel this is a bad idea. Don't let's make any deal, let's just go home. I honestly think we shouldn't get mixed up in this. We should never have come out here."

The Djinn hissed quietly from its corner and I, too, felt a twinge of annoyance. This deal – it sounded totally fair and not even particularly dangerous. Why had Jennifer even bothered to come out here if she was always intending to back out?

"But, Jen," I murmured back, frowning at her. "We can actually do this. You heard what the Djinn said. We'll have all the help we need, and besides, the phoenix was nicked in the first place, so we won't be doing anything wrong, and then – when we come back with it we'll _get our wish_. Remember what that means, Jennifer! You can come to Hogwarts with me next term! We'll never need to be parted again!"

Jennifer had a most peculiar expression on her face – mingled longing and desire, fear and anxiety. But she bit her lip, her eyes darting from side to side, and I could see the anxiety slowly winning over. She was going to turn down the deal out of pure cowardice. She was going to split us up forever. She would dare do that to us. Us! Suddenly, anger and recklessness pulsed through me like fire in my veins, and I whirled about to face the Djinn.

" _No,_ Juliet!" my sister yelped, reading my intentions instantly. "It's – the deal - it's just _too easy!"_

"We'll do it!" I shouted, blotting her out. "Yes, it's a deal!"

"Oh, Juliet, no..." Jennifer moaned, as the Djinn reared up towards the ceiling, mouth stretched in a wide, delighted grin. Its rank breath rolled over us as it laughed.

"The right decision, little one," it said, still cackling. "The right decision...now, here is all you must do..."

In a few blunt sentences, the Djinn gave us our instructions. They really didn't sound too bad, and I hoped that Jennifer would see this and forgive me. She was still staring at me as though I'd done something absolutely terrible, but I couldn't feel bad about it. I was doing this for her. More importantly, I was doing this for _us._

"I will get you ready for your journey..." the Djinn said, drifting on its wreath of oily yellow smoke to a carved wooden cupboard in the corner under the skulls. It opened the cupboard to reveal rows and rows of small glass bottles and phials, each filled with a different coloured liquid. Some glimmered, and in others the contents swirled ceaselessly, as though eager to be released. The Djinn picked out a small tear-shaped glass bottle which held an amber-coloured potion, and drifted over to us. Jennifer shrank back but I steeled myself and took the bottle from the Djinn's slightly rotten-looking hand.

"Drink it all between you...you will have the gift of many tongues for a day and a night. Take my harp also," it said, lifting the little golden harp from the chair on which it rested. "It will send the listener to sleep. You may find a use for it." With a flick of its fingers, the harp suddenly hung from a cord around my neck. I brushed the dust from it. It was surprisingly light. Jennifer looked at it silently and said nothing.

"And finally..."

The Djinn made a sweeping motion with its arm and a ripple of cool air washed over us.

"Oh!" I cried, looking down at myself, and then to Jennifer, who was mutely inspecting herself with an unreadable expression. We had completely changed – and I felt a momentary panic as I gazed at my sister, who was no longer my so-familiar twin. She was a small woman, probably in her late teens, with olive skin and dark brown eyes. She wore and hijab and witches' robes: long, plain, and dark blue, and small gold earrings, although neither of us had pierced ears.

I reached out, wondering, to feel my sister's face, so transformed. She stood like a stone as I brushed one pierced ear, her braided hair, her cheek – but it was enough. I frowned. I felt my sister's real hair, long and loose, and her real ear, smooth, earring-less. It was all illusion.

"Here..." whispered the Djinn, drifting over with a pearl-framed mirror and holding it before me. I looked at myself, transfixed. I was taller than Jennifer, perhaps in my early twenties, and my robes were magnificent: peacock blue with intricate decorations in gold and turquoise. I wore cream silk slippers, many gold bangles on my wrists, and a long necklace crusted with jewels. A blue hijab, beautifully embroidered with fine gold threads, loosely covered my hair.

"I'm..." I broke off, confused. I looked like a princess. And Jennifer in her plain, dark-blue robes...

"It's a well-off family that keeps my stolen phoenix," the Djinn said with another of its terrible leering smiles. "Now, you resemble the eldest daughter of that family, and her maid, of course," it added.

I felt a sudden misgiving and my breath caught in my throat. I had to ask the question, but I had a feeling I already knew the answer.

"Please - what - what's the name of the family?"

The Djinn cocked its grotesque head at me and replied with a sneer. I felt it pour its fury and hatred into the single word it now spoke.

" _Yazdani_."


	27. The Yazdani Palace

Jennifer

 _Pop!_

I gasped and staggered into Juliet, head spinning, then pushed myself upright and looked around, blinking. We'd landed in a narrow passageway, shaded and cool, between tall stone buildings. Above our heads, clean washing swung in a slight breeze, and at the end of the alley I saw and heard the bustle of crowds and the indistinct shouts of marketplace traders; it was past dawn, and the city was awake. I breathed deeply, gladly gulping in the fresh air after the stink of that pit we'd been trapped in, but this was my only relief. I was still angry, angrier than I had ever been at my sister or anyone else. Away from that awful leering monster at last, I rounded on Juliet.

"Don't you _dare_ ever do that again," I spat, grabbing her shoulder and shoving her round to face me. Juliet, but not Juliet; a beautiful young Iranian woman who gazed back at me, wide-eyed in shock.

"Jen – what – " she began, but I interrupted.

" _Next time_ ," I said through gritted teeth, "there's a life-changing decision to make, do NOT make it for both of us. You don't bloody well _own_ me."

"I never – obviously I don't think –"

"Right, well, we'd better get going, seeing as you volunteered us both to do this, and if we don't manage it we can say hello to our future three best friends the _swinging skulls_. So. Where are our instructions?"

Juliet's lips tightened mulishly in a way I knew well. She held out the roll of parchment we'd been given mutely, not meeting my eyes. Well, let her wallow and sulk for a while. I unrolled the parchment to find a map and a set of directives in an elegant, but totally illegible hand.

در کاخ سنگ مرمر به غرب  
آیا جواهر که من بیشتر دوستش دارم  
اتاق هفتم در طبقه دوم  
حاوی یک جواهر است که دیگر من نیست  
وجود دارد، در قفس چوب  
جواهر است که من می خواهم

شما سه ساعت دارید

We both stared at it, floored for a moment. How could the Djinn have given us instructions in language neither of us could read?

We realised our mistake at the same time.

"Oh – the potion –" said Juliet, just as I looked up at her to ask for it. She fumbled awkwardly inside her robes, pushing the harp which still hung around her neck aside, and pulled out the tiny glass bottle. She pulled out the stopper and sniffed it curiously.

"Bit like liquorice," she muttered. "Well – here goes."

She took a gulp, emptying half the bottle, then handed it to me, licking the purplish liquid from her lips. It had stained them slightly, giving her a slightly vampiric look. Noting this, I tilted my head back and – after a moment's hesitation – poured the rest of the concoction down my throat. Ugh – it did taste like liquorice, only sourer. I could feel it burning down to the pit of my stomach and spreading with a tingling sensation to the very ends of my fingers and toes. It was a weird sensation, and I flexed my fingers uncomfortably. I wondered how long it would take to have an effect. A moment later, however, I turned my head in surprise, my question answered. From the way Juliet's head had swivelled a moment before mine, I could tell the same thing had happened to her.

Until now the hum and chatter of the busy marketplace at the far end of our alley had been no more than background noise, without interest; but in that instant it changed, just like flicking over to BBC from a foreign channel on television.

"ROBES, robes, bee-YOO-ti-ful woven robes, special price for you, lady!"

"Apricots and almonds, almonds and apricots! Freshly picked for the sweetest flavour!"

"OH, what a treat, sugared dates, oh yes, plump sugared dates, every family's favourite!"

"BEST quality cauldrons, that's right, the VERY best quality pewter, copper, silver cauldrons!"

Beside me, Juliet let out a long, low breath. "That's amazing," she said.

I was a little surprised at the look of marvel on her face. Sure, it was amazing to me, but I thought she would be more used to this sort of thing by now. "Well – it's magic," I said, frowning. "It's probably pretty standard, I bet all your lot carry that stuff around when they go abroad. Easier than thumbing through phrasebooks. What?"

Juliet was staring at me, wounded. "My lot?"

I felt a twinge of guilt. That had just popped out. "Well – you know."

"Well, for your information, no. This is seriously powerful stuff. I don't think the wizarding world has ever made a potion that can do this. You know. _My_ lot."

I sighed. " I didn't mean – anyway, look!"

I held up the parchment and after a moment, Juliet looked at it instead of me. The writing on the parchment was no longer a mystery. In a surprisingly beautiful, curling, feminine hand, it read:

 _In the marble palace to the west  
_ _Lies the jewel I treasured best  
_ _The seventh room on the second floor  
_ _Holds the jewel that's mine no more  
_ _There, in its cage of teak  
_ _Is the jewel I seek._

 _You have three hours._

"Three hours!" I yelped, thrusting the parchment at Juliet and looking round in horror. "It never said anything about a time limit before, we've been wasting loads of time in here – let's get going!" I started half-walking, half-running towards the end of the alley.

"Calm down, Jen, it's only been about five minutes," my sister said, though I could see she was rattled too. "And _wait_ – I need to hide this thing." She tucked the golden harp down the front of her peacock-blue robes, which were loose enough that its odd shape couldn't be seen, then caught up with me.

"Which way's west?" I muttered, looking up and squinting to see where the sun was rising, as I emerged into the marketplace: hot, noisy, and filled with exotic scents.

The next moment someone barged straight into me, taking me totally by surprise. I staggered into a large stack of cauldrons, slamming my shin into a sharp metal edge. "Hey!" I cried out, gritting my teeth in pain as I tottered upright. My eyes were watering. My shin was probably bleeding under my long navy dress.

"Look where you're going, silly woman," the man who'd knocked into me snapped, as he swept past, arms full of paper-wrapped packages. I was about to retort crossly when the cauldron trader stuck his head out of his stall, close to mine.

"If you've damaged that cauldron, missy, you'd better pay," he hissed. "Oh, yes, it's scratched now, look!"

He pointed theatrically. I gaped at the stack of cauldrons and back to the trader in disbelief. They were all second-hand, several were rusting and dented, and all, without exception, were scratched.

"Hang on, I didn't –"

"Oh, but you did! Seven _Sikar_ for the damage, or I'll report you." He held out a large and dirty hand.

"Don't be ridiculous," said Juliet angrily, coming up beside me and glaring at the trader. "All your cauldrons are already damaged. My sis— I mean, my maid — didn't cause any more."

In an instant, all the blood drained from the man's face and I was shocked to see him suddenly cringe and bob his head, wringing his hands in abject apology.

"Miss Zareen – you – _here_ – of course, I never meant – your maid, why just an unfortunate accident, of course...please, my humblest apologies...let me offer you a cauldron, my best!"

He scuttled away and a moment later – just long enough for Juliet and I to exchange bewildered glances – popped back up with a shining silver cauldron quite unlike the worn ones in front of us, and held it up, still bowing and cringing.

"Oh – but I – I don't need a cauldron," stammered Juliet, taken aback.

"Of course – so silly of me – your illustrious family must have whole rooms of cauldrons..." the man returned, and I realised his hands, still gripping the beautiful cauldron, were shaking. I nudged Juliet as unobtrusively as I could with my elbow and she gathered herself together. Of course, she was Zareen, eldest daughter of the Yazdani family Ali Bashir had warned us against, whose awful power I was just beginning to realise.

"Oh - yes - I will forgive your mistake this time," Juliet said, drawing herself up in a dignified manner and looking haughtily down at him. "But let this be a lesson to you. Now, come – er – come, maid."

She swept away, beckoning me to follow, and I left the cauldron trader behind, retreating shakily into his stall.

"'Come, maid?'" I repeated wryly, as I drew level with my sister, elbowing my way through the crowds in this horribly hectic, dusty, wizarding grand bazaar.

"Sorry about that," Juliet muttered apologetically. "I just realised I don't know your name – the maid's name, I mean – and I can't call you Jennifer here, can I? I didn't even know my name was Zareen. I didn't think to ask the Djinn."

"Let's hope we find out what my name is, then," I said. "That'd be a right giveaway, in the wrong place. Talking of which, are we going the right way?"

"Yeah," said Juliet. "I was looking at the map and working out which way was west while you were bumbling into cauldrons."

"I didn't just _bumble –"_

But Juliet was grinning. "You _know_ I'm kidding..."

She squeezed my hand and I felt a confused rush of emotion sweep through me. I was still rankling at what she had got us both into, and how she had behaved back in the Djinn's den, but...I missed moments like this. This was how it always used to be, before Juliet was swept away to Hogwarts, leaving me behind. Looking out for each other, getting each others' backs; us two against the rest of the big wide world. Whether it was at primary school in Britain, being teased by the other kids for being twins; secretly escaping to the Stonehenge winter solstice together; navigating our way through a wizarding market in the Middle East...more than just sisters, we got through it all, through thick and thin. At that moment Tara and my other mates from Greenhill Academy had never seemed so very far away. I couldn't even picture their faces clearly.

"And I'm sorry for what I did," Juliet added as we walked along. "I shouldn't have. I just wanted us to stay together so much..."

"I know," I said, after a moment's hesitation. "I do get that. Just – don't be so rash, another time. It's my future too."

And I squeezed her hand back, communicating without words. She understood. The fight was behind us.

The crowds were thinning; we had reached the western edge of the great market and the streets suddenly opened out unexpectedly onto a beautiful park, unexpectedly green. It was filled with cool fountains, a relief to see, as the rising sun was already beginning to bake the dusty streets. Peacocks strolled at their leisure across the grass, and Juliet nudged me and pointed ahead. But I'd already seen it. Far across the other side of the park – or was it gardens? – was, unmistakably, a palace. A beautiful palace, built of white marble and topped with innumerable domed turrets, like something from a picture book. Juliet had said the wizarding world did not have royalty; but clearly the Yazdani family, with their vast wealth and power, were as close to royals as they could get.

The gardens were so huge it took us fully twenty minutes to cross them, and we neared the palace with trepidation.

"Do you reckon we'll just get lucky and can walk in?" Juliet said as we started to climb the grand, sweeping stairway leading to the imposing front doors. "Oh..."

Her question had been answered. As though we had been watched all this time, the doors swung open as we approached them, to reveal a burly-looking doorman in plain black robes edged with gold. A sturdy, business-like wand was tucked into his belt. Juliet hesitated a moment, and I nudged her urgently. This was no time to mill around, looking uncertain. Luckily, she quickly pulled herself together, striding so confidently up to the door that I had to hurry to keep up with her.

To my relief, the doorman was smiling kindly at my sister. "Miss Zareen," he said with evident pleasure. "Out for an early morning stroll? You must have left before I started duty today, up at the crack of dawn!"

Juliet played her part well, smiling winningly back at him. It was obvious that she was a favourite of his. "Oh yes," she replied. "It was such a beautiful day; I woke so early and decided I wanted to see the sunrise!"

"Ah, still such a girl inside, Miss Zareen," the wizard smiled fondly as we passed; I might as well have been invisible to him. "How wonderful to see you so full of zest and vigour! I'd have thought you'd want as much sleep as you could get, at this time! But no, you're looking well, this new stage of life suits you, it really does. Kaspar is lucky to have you."

He'd lost us both by this point. Who was Kaspar? Zareen's boyfriend? Juliet's smile wavered slightly and she said uncertainly, "Yes – yes, he is. Well, I'd better, ah –"

"Go and cover him with kisses, of course, after leaving for a frolic in the dew! Although you're late for breakfast already!" said the doorman, chuckling, then suddenly pulled himself up short and looked at me sharply, for the first time. "But – shouldn't Minu be with him now? Is he alone?"

Minu – so that was my name. I cast around wildly for something appropriate to say, that wouldn't give us away – but what did he mean? If this Kaspar was Zareen's boyfriend, why should I be with him? I could see Juliet was as confused as I was, but she thought quicker than me.

"What is it to you if he's alone?" she said imperiously, frowning at the doorman and ushering me past. "I haven't been long. I wanted – ah – Minu – to accompany me. It's not your place to tell me otherwise."

It was a gamble; would the doorman react like the cauldron-seller in the marketplace?

To our relief, he did. His eyes widened in surprise, but he instantly withdrew, bowing slightly, and held up his hand in apology.

"Forgive me, Miss. I did forget my place. You and I were always such – such pals, I didn't think. Of course, you know best."

"No matter," Juliet said graciously. "I can forget it this time. We are good friends, after all." And she smiled at him as we walked on, into the cavernous entrance hall; everything built of cool marble, with pure white Persian rugs on the floors and more tinkling fountains and elegant statues along the edges of the room.

 _The seventh room on the second floor_ , I thought, glancing at Juliet and heading purposefully for the staircase, feeling the doorman's eyes on our backs and not daring to turn my head. Juliet, too, strode towards the stairs, but just as we started to ascend, a door opened to our left and a tall woman came out, looking right at us with sharp eyes.

"Zareen! What are you doing going upstairs now?" she said in surprise. "Breakfast is just being served. Surely you can't have eaten already."

One glance told me this had to be Zareen's mother, the matriarch of the Yazdani family; so similar in build, tall and beautiful with the same exquisitely fine cheekbones and high forehead. She wore flowing robes of cream and gold and looked every inch a queen; I feared her instinctively. For some idiotic reason, in that moment I thought that if we were cats, she would be a puma or a leopard, sleek and powerful, while I was no more than a weak and undersized kitten she could take in her jaws and kill instantly.

"Has the cat got your tongue, child?"

"I –" Juliet hesitated. The doorman could still hear every word; he'd wonder what was going on if she said she'd had breakfast already. "I wasn't hungry this morning."

"Nonsense," said the woman sharply. "You've got to keep your strength up, as you well know. Now come with me and eat. Minu, what are you doing here? You should be with Kaspar. Go on now." And she jerked her head upwards, clearly indicating that I should go upstairs. I threw Juliet an agonised glance as I started to ascend the stairs, while she was steered purposefully towards a door at the far side of the room, the older woman's hand in the small of my sister's back. She shrugged helplessly at me and gave me a look which clearly said, _play along. I'll meet you as soon as I can._

This was my worst nightmare. As Juliet disappeared, I climbed the stairs alone, hoping desperately that I didn't meet this strange man called Kaspar, who for some reason seemed to need constant attention – or anyone else for that matter – and give away that I wasn't really Minu, maid to the eldest Yazdani daughter. All I could do was head to the seventh room on the second floor and see if I could find the ruby phoenix – surely, we had to be over halfway through our allotted time. I couldn't waste any more.

I wasn't lucky enough to meet nobody. The grand house was coming to life, rather later than the marketplace, and I passed several imperious-looking members of the Yazdani household making their way down to breakfast as well as a few witches and wizards in plainer robes scurrying around who were clearly servants, like me. Happily, beyond the occasional glance, no one seemed to find my presence strange – except for one girl, in her early teens, dressed in intricately decorated sky blue robes, who was quite clearly another Yazdani daughter. She snapped at me as I passed her, "Minu! Why aren't you upstairs? Have you left Kaspar?"

"I – h-had to get something for Miss Zareen," I stuttered. "I haven't been long."

The young Yazdani girl _tched_ and raised her eyebrows. "I'll have to keep an eye on you, Minu. Somehow I think you're lying. Remember, you're lucky to have a place in this household. A thousand witches could fill your place."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry, _what_?" said the girl fiercely. I couldn't believe she was talking to me like this. She had to be younger than me – the real me – and several years younger than Minu!

"I'm sorry, Miss," I said, as meekly as I could manage.

She glared. "Miss Laila, to you, you cheeky bitch, not just 'Miss'. Now get back to Kaspar!"

And to my amazement and humiliation, she flicked me sharply round the ear before sweeping past and down the stairs. I fingered my stinging ear angrily, thinking of all the things I'd like to do to Miss uppity-Laila, then made myself carry on up to the second floor. It was quieter up here and I relaxed a little, counting the doors as I passed them. One – two...another two...five...past one more...here it was. The seventh room. I listened carefully at the door for a while, but there was no sound from within. It must be empty. There didn't seem to be anyone up on this floor at all. Perhaps this would be okay after all; I could sneak in, take the ruby phoenix, then wait for Juliet to escape from the breakfast room and we could make a quick getaway.

Quietly, I opened the door and stepped inside.

I was wrong. The room wasn't empty. The woman inside was sat quietly next to a beautiful wooden cradle, rocking it gently with her foot and looking down at the sleeping infant inside with a dreamy expression. She looked up when I entered and her eyes widened in shock. For one long moment, she froze. In that instant, I couldn't work out why she looked so terrified; then I saw myself in the long mirror opposite, for the first time, and I, too, froze in horror.

I'd met the real Minu, and I finally knew who Kaspar was.

* * *

 **(dramatic orchestral music plays)**

 **Ah, I can never resist a cliffhanger.**

 **I hope everyone enjoyed this, I certainly enjoyed writing it! Would absolutely love to hear your thoughts, as always. I thrive on reviews!**

 **To Garbayim, my guest reviewer - many thanks for your kind comments! It's so great to hear you find this an original and intriguing story. As for your question regarding an update schedule: well, I have to fit my writing around a perpetually busy work and social life, so I just update whenever I can. It's a little irregular, but I try not to let it go _too_ long between chapters.**

 **Having said that...I am going on a longish July holiday to Scotland, and probably won't have time to write another chapter before I go. Enjoy the summer, everyone, and you'll find out what happens to the twins and the real Minu when I am back :)**

 **Beedle**

 **P.S. The Arabic translation of the Djinn's instructions is pure Google Translate, I'm afraid, therefore doubtless horribly wrong. If there is anyone out there reading this who could send me an accurate translation to replace it I would be very much obliged.**


	28. A Tigress and a Ruby

Juliet

"We've a busy day ahead," Zareen's mother informed me as she glided along the cool marbled corridors. "My eldest sister and your cousins from Shushtar are visiting, to meet Kaspar, of course; they've waited a week already with your illness, I would not put them off longer. I am glad to see, therefore, that you seem less tired today, much more yourself."

"Um – yes, mother, I feel very well today," I said, when she paused, expecting a response.

"The potions the Healer administered must have been powerful. It was the most difficult birth a Yazdani witch has had for some years now...for a while I feared it was a curse."

I nearly tripped over my own feet. Birth? Oh, Merlin. I'd just given _birth_?

"Still, you pulled through and Kaspar is flourishing! Your father is so proud; and I, of course. Such a beautiful, strong boy..."

 _It's fine_ , I told myself, _as long as I play along, I won't give myself away. I'm Zareen, eldest Yazdani daughter, and I have a newborn son. Kaspar, that's who Kaspar is...I've been ill since the birth. Strong potions have apparently caused a miraculously fast recovery..._

We reached a closed door, behind which could be heard a clamour of voices and the scraping of plates and bowls. Zareen's mother pushed it open and swept into the breakfast room.

"Morning, mother."

"Mama!"

Two girls at the end of the long table close to us – one a haughty-looking teenager, the other just eight or nine – looked up from their plates. Both were eating soft flat breads, yoghurt with honey, and cool, glistening slices of melon. The heady smell of sweetly spiced coffee drifted to me from tiny silver cups and my stomach contracted with hunger. I hadn't eaten a thing for over twelve hours.

There were six others in the room – a bent old grandfather picking his teeth, a large, powerful man with a thick black moustache reading the papers, two boys arguing over the bread bowl, and a skinny young waiter bringing more coffee on a silver tray. The waiter bobbed his head respectfully, placed the coffee in the centre of the table and withdrew. Nervously, I followed Zareen's mother into the room.

"Laila, Sisi," she said crisply, pulling out a chair. "Good morning, all...now, Zareen. Have some of this melon, to start with. What's the matter, Laila? You're staring, it's most unattractive."

"How'd you do that, Zar?" Laila demanded, ignoring her mother.

My heart thudded, but as casually as I could, I helped myself to melon. "Do what?" I replied, picking up a small silver fork and spearing the fruit.

"Well, you went in the garden room just when I came in for breakfast, before Sisi got here," Laila said, pointing at the door to an adjoining room. "You wanted to rest. I've been here all this time and you didn't walk past me, I'd have seen you."

"I didn't see you either, Zar-zar!" Sisi piped up. "Wow, did you Apparate?"

"You can't Apparate in this house, Sisi, you know that, you're so dumb," Laila snapped, and her little sister's face fell. She looked sadly at her yoghurt.

"I did walk past you," I said quickly, but feeling my cheeks flush. "You were eating. You didn't notice. Ignore her, Sisi."

 _Oh dear Merlin, I needed to be convincing. Once they found out the real Zareen was in the next room, I was dead meat. I prayed she wouldn't hear and come in._

But Laila's cat-like eyes narrowed, studying me.

"You've changed your dress, too," she announced. "You were wearing your cream dress, not that blue one. And besides, you had breakfast already, you greedy pig."

"Laila!" said her mother sharply. "Mind your language."

But Laila was unstoppable. She leaned forward, not touching her melon. " _And_ you must've been faking feeling ill earlier, you look _fine_ to me, so why'd you make me help you to your chair, huh? I bet you weren't sick at all after you had Kaspar," she said viciously. "I bet you were just _milking it_ so you'd get all the attention calling in that special Healer...everyone clustering about you like flies... waiting on you _hand and foot –_ "

"Laila! Enough!" her mother cut in, eyes flashing. Laila at last fell silent. I choked down a piece of melon. Beads of sweat broke out on my forehead. I didn't dare wipe them away.

"You are ungracious, Laila," said the big man at the far end of the table, looking up again from his newspaper. "It does not become a Yazdani daughter."

"Oh, Papa..."

The two boys had stopped fighting over their bread and were looking over, curiously. The grandfather was still silently sipping coffee, but his eyes glinted like specks of steel and I knew he was listening to every word.

Zareen's mother had picked up on one part of Laila's tirade, however. "If it's true you had breakfast already, Zareen, why did you tell me you had skipped it this morning?"

Laila's head rose and her lips curved into a smile. She _knew_ something wasn't right. She knew I was lying. And she knew I was about to be caught out, whatever it was.

"I – because –" My mind went completely blank as I met the woman's piercing gaze. "Because –"

But the next moment, I was saved from answering by the thing I had dreaded the most.

A girl's voice, quavering, plaintive, from the adjoining room.

" _Mother? Are you there? I want you...I feel just awful..."_

Everyone's heads swivelled towards the voice and for a second, they froze. The moment of shock was my deliverance. I sprang from my chair and dived for the exit, knowing that a split second later all their wands would be pointed at me.

I threw myself through the door and slammed it just as a collective roar and Laila's theatrical screams sounded behind me. Reacting instinctively, my wand in my hand before I knew it, I pulled myself together and gasped _"Colloportus!"_ The door sealed a second before several members of the Yazdani family hurled themselves at it, shaking it in its frame.

Knowing the basic spell would only stop them for mere seconds, I hurtled along the corridor and round a corner, back the way I'd come, desperately thinking of all the spells I'd learned in the past year. All were surely woefully inadequate, even the more advanced charms I'd taught myself from library books...I did the only thing I could think of whilst running for my life and pointed my wand behind me, yelling _"Aguamenti!"_

Water spurted out of my wand in torrents, spattering the marble floors. A faint hope, but just maybe some of them would slip...

Just fifty paces behind me, the door crashed open and a man's voice bellowed, " _STOP! INTRUDER!"_

I heard something else unintelligible – it sounded like _abracadabra,_ of all things – and a flash of bright green light whooshed past me. The air contracted and quivered as it passed. Whatever the spell was, I didn't care to know. Hurtling round another corner, I ran even faster, breath coming in agonising gasps, flashes of pain streaking my ribcage. White lights danced before my eyes. My wand continued to spurt water.

 _Slam._ I hit a solid mass of muscle and flesh and reeled backwards.

"Miss Zareen!" It was the doorkeeper, shocked, holding my shoulders. "What on earth's going on?"

"It's – an – intruder!" I gasped, pointing behind me with a shaking hand. "Go – run – help them!"

The doorkeeper was gone in an instant, trusting me – I thanked my lucky stars that Zareen and he were friendly and hared it to the stairs, taking them three at a time. I had to find Jennifer and get out of here before we were both killed.

There were shouts and thuds below – then a confused jumble of yells and crashes. My heart lifted – had the doorkeeper hurtled into them? Had they all slipped on my water trail? I reached the top of the stairs, saw another flight at the end of the landing and started to head towards it when all of a sudden I went flying.

" _Aghhh!"_

I hit the marble floor with my left arm outstretched and screamed as I felt my wrist snap.

When Laila caught me with me a few moments later I was curled in a ball, sobbing, my wrist on fire. I struggled to my feet but she shoved me back to the floor, wand out, a crazy, victorious smile lighting up her beautiful cat-like face.

"A perfectly-aimed trip jinx, if I say so myself," she purred, shoving her wand into my neck. "Now, why don't you tell me just who you really are?"

"Get off –"

" _Tell me_."

"I _won't_ – ow! Stop it!"

I screamed. She had muttered something viciously and my ear twisted in on itself, as though crushed in a vice. Pain exploded in the side of my head as the crushing intensified.

Through my good ear, I could hear the rest of the family getting to their feet and running again, footsteps like thunder as they reached the bottom of the stairs. I writhed and screamed, and finally managed to grab Laila's wand arm and force it away. The pain subsided and I lashed out with one foot, catching her full in the stomach. She let out a small " _oof"_ and rolled away – and I curled back up, knowing this was it, that I was going to die at the hands of the whole Yazdani clan – when I felt it, crushed against my ribs.

The Djinn's little golden harp, which I had completely forgotten.

 _...It will send the listener to sleep. You may find a use for it..._

My breath caught in my throat as I pulled it out. From that moment, time seemed to slow.

My pursuers reached the top of the stairs, hurtled round the corner, and for a second my heart stopped in utter terror. The mother, her beautiful face twisted in a ferocious snarl, was first, transforming before my eyes; limbs outstretched, claws bursting from her fingertips, back arching, orange and black fur rippling over her skin. Her jaws opened, revealing rows of sharp yellow teeth. Oh, Merlin. A tigress! She was an Animagus!

Behind her, wands raised, came the father, the doorkeeper, Sisi and the two boys, and a handful of other servants...the grandfather hobbling last round the corner...

I screamed, holding up the harp like a shield as the huge tigress bounded towards me, and desperately swept the fingers of my left hand across the strings, my broken wrist flaring in agony as I did so.

A sweet, sickly rush of chords – a haunting melody rising up long after my fingers left the final string.

As one, the tigress, the other Yazdanis, and their servants, stopped in their tracks. Laila – fingers outstretched in an attempt to grab the harp – froze, her mouth dropping open. Her eyes met mine for an instant as I trailed my fingers along the strings again, more deliberately this time.

Just a metre away from me, the tigress moaned, struggled forward two paces, then sank down and curled up, head lolling. Behind her, a collective sigh – the sweet song of the harp resonating through the air – and the others went limp. Their knees folded, and the entire family crashed to the carpet in a jumble of limbs and robes. Next to me, Laila's eyes clouded over and she, too, slumped to the floor.

In front of me, the beast's body rippled and writhed, the fur and claws retracting before my eyes. A moment later, Zareen's mother lay peacefully in human form, still curled like a cat.

After the shouts, screams and chaos of the last few minutes, the silence itself seemed to ring like a bell in my ears. I panted as I got to my feet, cupping my broken left wrist tenderly in my right hand. Pain shot through it with the least movement and I couldn't flex my fingers without gasping in agony.

My heart banged in my chest as I surveyed the mass of bodies before me. The blood had drained from their faces and all looked deathly pale. Had the Djinn lied about the harp? Surely I hadn't – they couldn't all be – dead?

"Juliet?" a voice whispered behind me, and I turned to see Minu the maid – Jennifer – staring in quiet horror. "What have you done?"

I bent quickly and felt Laila's wrist. For a moment I found nothing and terrified bile rose in my throat – and then I moved my fingers and, yes, I felt it. The fluttering of a pulse. Relief flooded through me.

"It's okay," I said quickly. "They're just asleep. It was the harp..."

"Thank goodness..." Jennifer breathed, swallowing hard. "Oh, Juliet. I saw the tiger. That was so close."

"I had no idea she was an Animagus – you know – can change into an animal at will," I said, swallowing. "The Djinn could've warned us."

Jennifer was crying and so, I realised, was I.

"This has been – just terrible," she sobbed.

"I know," I said. "I know..."

We crept towards each other and hugged. Beneath the Djinn's illusion, I felt the figure of my real sister, her familiar long hair, and began to feel a little better. We were both alive. We could still get away. I held my left arm awkwardly clear, and after a moment Jennifer broke away from the embrace and touched my wrist gently, looking at me. I flinched.

"Broken," I mumbled. "It's fine. I can manage."

Jennifer wiped her eyes, and pursed her lips. She was always more practical than me in an emergency. She removed the navy blue shawl from around her shoulders. "Here," she said. "I'll make a sling."

She fashioned a rough cradle and knotted it around my neck, easing my left arm into it. My wrist resting in the soft material, the pain eased a little.

"Thanks," I said gratefully. "That helps."

But Jennifer was already turning. "You need to come," she said, tugging me by my right arm. "I don't know what to do. I've found the ruby, but – well, just come up, you'll see."

Mystified, I followed her up the stairs, and to a room whose door was already ajar. A soft mewling sound came from within.

"What's that sound?"

"Kaspar," said Jennifer briefly.

"Oh. Of course..." I entered the room and blinked.

"I met Minu," Jennifer said, unnecessarily.

Sprawled on the floor was a small woman who looked exactly like my sister in disguise. She was breathing, but her eyes were closed.

"Crikey. How did you...?"

"Well, luckily she'd left her wand on the bedside table," said Jennifer, pointing. "Or I wouldn't have stood a chance. She yelled, but I think everyone else was heading down for breakfast so no one heard her. I got to her before she reached her wand and we fought...she wasn't much of a fighter though."

"Well, you don't usually have to be, if you're a witch – and a nanny..."

"I've done martial arts for a year," said Jennifer. "You know – that after school club. It was easy to overpower her. I didn't actually mean to knock her out, but she hit her head on the corner of the bed when she went down."

I grimaced. "Jeez, we're leaving a trail of bodies behind us...is the baby okay?"

I walked over to the beautifully carved wooden cradle and peered inside.

"Yes," said Jennifer. "He's fine. He screamed for a while after the fight but I cuddled him till he calmed down. He's really sweet."

"Aww...yeah, he is...hello, Kaspar! Aren't you a cutie-pie!" I cooed.

The baby stopped his plaintive mewling as I looked down at him. His little round face scrunched up in surprise. He was tiny, but perfect: big dark eyes with long lashes, chubby cheeks, soft, downy hair. I pulled a face at him and he blinked at me, alert and curious.

"I know...and Juliet, look. Here's the phoenix. It's in his cot."

Jennifer ran her fingers over the intricately carved wood at the head of the cradle. The jewel – a phoenix no bigger than my thumb, so beautifully made it looked almost real – gleamed a dark blood-red. It was embedded deep in the wood. The cradle, which was polished and smooth with age, was quite clearly a family heirloom. It looked hundreds of years old.

"We'll have to get it out, then."

"I've tried. Minu had eaten breakfast up here, I used her knife. I couldn't prise it out."

I could see that the wood was scratched and splintered around the jewel. The knife lay on the bed – blunt-tipped, silver. I picked it up and tried to slip it into a slim crack between the ruby and the wood. It resisted. The cradle rocked and Kaspar let out an uncertain cry.

"Wait, Juliet!" Jennifer reached down and picked up the baby, who snuggled into her, trustingly. She wrapped her arms around him and stroked his hair, singing softly to him. He hiccupped gently.

"Sorry, Kaspar," I whispered, then turned my attention back to the cradle. After a short struggle, I dropped the knife back on the bed. "Well, I can't get it out with this," I said, "especially with just one hand. I'll see what else I can do, though."

I pulled out my wand. Jennifer watched, clearly curious. "What spell can you use?"

"I'm not sure," I said, rolling my wand thoughtfully between my fingers. "There's a couple of charms I can try...how about...stand back..."

Jennifer moved a few paces back and put her hand over Kaspar's tiny ears.

I took careful aim. " _Diffindo!"_

There was a sound like a gunshot as the wood split. Jennifer gasped.

A long thin line had appeared in the wood alongside the jewel, but it wasn't enough. I prised with my fingernails. It wasn't loose.

" _Reducto!"_

CRACK.

A network of fissures bloomed in the ancient wood.

"Oh no, Juliet –" Jennifer said, touching my shoulder and pointing. Minu was stirring, brought back to her senses by the loud noise. She let out a small moan, her eyes still shut. Anxiously, I fingered my wand. To knock someone unconscious in self-defence was one thing; neither of us could possibly attack her in cold blood. And I dared not use the harp; if it felled everyone but the player, indiscriminately, Jennifer and Kaspar would be knocked out cold too.

"Quickly," Jennifer urged me. "Just get it over with."

I aimed again. " _REDUCTO_!" I said, more forcefully, concentrating all my attention on the right spot. A flash of red light. The head of the cradle shattered and Minu gasped, pushing herself up on one arm and opening her eyes. Kaspar stirred fretfully and began to wail. But it was enough. The phoenix tumbled onto the baby's blankets as the wood crumbled. I stuffed my wand away, and reached out and grabbed it, fingers tingling with triumph. Quickly, I tucked it into a pocket of my dress.

"C'mon, let's go!" I said hurriedly, tearing the wriggling baby out of Jennifer's clutches with my good arm and laying him hurriedly back into the remains of his cot. He started to scream in earnest, reaching up his arms towards me, fat tears rolling down his cheeks. My insides twisted with guilt.

"Don't cry, Kaspar, it'll be all right..." Jennifer called, looking distressed. I tugged her arm and we stepped around Minu as she sat up, swaying, a look of horror creeping into her face, and quickly left the room. I pulled out the harp ready, just in case, but there was no need; the family was still sprawled awkwardly all over the landing.

The baby's screams were still audible as we hurried down the stairs.

"Oh, poor Kaspar," Jennifer mumbled. "It seems so wrong."

I shrugged helplessly. "Well, it's too late now. And they're ridiculously rich, just look at the house. They'll repair the cradle magically, and just put a different jewel in...it won't matter, honestly."

"It's not just the cradle," Jennifer said, shooting me an unhappy glance. "I feel so guilty, leaving them like that, and stealing from them too...they've never done anything to us."

We unbolted the front doors and stepped back out into the bright sunlight. "Yeah, but honestly, Jen," I told her quietly, "I don't think they're a very nice family. I read about them. They're basically wizarding dictators, the whole country is terrified of them. The mother's a psychotic Animagus who was about to rip my throat out. And that Laila is a right bitch."

Jennifer sighed. "Well, I only met the doorkeeper, and Minu, and Kaspar, really. And I liked them."

"Yeah, well...believe me, the others weren't half so charming."

Slowly, we made our way across the cool, fountain-studded gardens and back to the noisy marketplace. We wove in and out of the crowds, and past the cauldron-seller's stall, then ducked back into the alley. The Djinn had told us to head back to this place and call her by name when we were ready. It had written its name on a slip of parchment, which I pulled out now from my pocket, along with the ruby phoenix.

"It's beautiful," said Jennifer, taking the jewel from me. "Goodness – it's so heavy."

It was heavy, for its size. Cut and polished by a master craftsman, its feathers looked so real. It gleamed in Jennifer's hands, blood-red, with a hint of fire within. When Jennifer moved it from side to side, the colours rippled and flashed.

"I'm not sure this is just any ruby," Jennifer said uncertainly. "Mum has a ruby brooch, you know, that one from Grandma. It's nothing like this."

I nodded. "I know what you mean. Well, it's probably magic in some way or another. I expect that's why the Djinn wanted it back so much."

I unrolled the piece of parchment with the Djinn's name written on it and Jennifer and I looked at each other. The last few hours had been so terrible, so scary, and we had come so close to death or, at the least, some unimaginable torture. The relief hadn't yet hit, and the truth was only just starting to sink in. We'd managed it.

Slowly, triumphantly, I started to smile.

"We _did_ it, Jennifer. We got the ruby. We – _we completed our side of the deal_."

"Yes..." Jennifer whispered, after a moment. "I guess we did. I – I can't believe it. I'll be a witch...a witch like you..." She was starting to look stunned.

"You'll be able to come to Hogwarts. You'll only be a year behind – and I'll help you catch up. We'll be together again, properly – and they'll never split us up again! Here, quick – let's get back to the Djinn and hand this phoenix over. You'll be a witch in no time..."

My hand trembled with excitement as I read the name on the slip of parchment.

" _Azmah-Kalajin."_

A split second later, the ground shook beneath our feet and we left the alley behind us in a flying whirl of dust.

Our arrival back in the den of the Djinn was met with a gale of wild, gleeful, shrieking laughter.


	29. Retribution

Jennifer

The Djinn's gleeful laughter rang in my ears as my feet hit the sandy floor of the monster's stinking underground cave. The pit looked the same as it had a few hours ago, but it was hotter, far hotter; I immediately broke into a sweat. A quick glance around revealed the source of the heat: a bluish fire in the corner below the swinging skulls, with a cauldron suspended above. Whatever was in the cauldron bubbled and spat, and an acrid steam was drifting into the air. In such a tiny space, it was suffocating. I covered my mouth and nose, grimacing as the Djinn drifted towards us, eyes gleaming hungrily.

"Give it to me! Give it to me now!" it hissed, looking quite mad as it stretched out its arms. "It's _mine_! Mine!"

I stumbled backwards, away from the monster, and banged into something behind me: one of the Djinn's cabinets, full of shadowy objects that rattled with the impact. Juliet reached out and steadied the cabinet and as she did so I realised she looked herself again, wearing her normal clothes; not Zareen in her peacock-blue dress. Our illusions had been lifted.

"Give me the jewel! GIVE IT TO ME!" The Djinn surged closer, its eyes flashing dangerously.

Juliet hastily rummaged in her pocket and pulled it out.

"Here you are – we did it, we got it for you!"

She held out the ruby phoenix and the Djinn snatched it from her with another wild whoop of laughter. It rose a couple of feet into the air, clutching the jewel in ecstasy.

" _At last!_ " it screeched. "At _last_ , it's _mine!_ Ahhhh-hahahaha!"

I looked at Juliet, willing her to look back at me. This felt wrong, so wrong. The Djinn's laughter was too crazed, too triumphant. Suddenly I felt dead certain that we had meddled in something we should have left well alone. Surely the Djinn wouldn't be this obsessed – with just a tiny jewel?

"Yes," Juliet ventured, stepping forward. "And now –"

"Wait, Juliet –" I said quickly, grabbing her arm. "Let me. I think it should be my wish. It's for me."

"Oh," she said in surprise. "Well – I guess that's fair." And she held up her hands, indicating I should go ahead.

Biting my lip, I slowly approached the Djinn. The monster had its back to us now and was hovering over the steaming cauldron, its laughter having died down to a low cackle.

"Excuse me," I said, summoning up all my courage to speak to the foul thing. But my next words somehow got lost on the way to my mouth. The Djinn was behaving so strangely, crooning and stroking the ruby with one long, rotten-looking finger as though it still couldn't believe it was in its grasp. Then slowly, almost dreamily, it reached into a cloth bag and pulled out what looked horribly like a dried eyeball. My stomach twisted in revulsion and I watched in horrified fascination as the Djinn dropped the eyeball into the cauldron, which swallowed it with a nasty ' _gloomph_ ' and shot a few sparks into the air. The monster added a couple of pinches of yellowy-white powder and some drops of viscous liquid from a small vial. Slowly, the potion turned thick and black, like tar. As I watched, a particularly large, evil-looking bubble rose to the surface and burst, exhaling a foul-smelling yellow steam. The Djinn grinned widely and gave me a sneaky sideways glance. Then - ceremoniously - it held up the phoenix above the bubbling cauldron, pinched between finger and thumb.

Somehow, I knew the danger the second before the Djinn released the jewel.

"Juliet – get _back_!"

As I leapt backwards, dragging Juliet behind the cabinet, the phoenix dropped into the cauldron with a tiny, insignificant splash: and then the whole thing exploded.

We both screamed as hot liquid and shards of metal hit the cabinet, which shuddered at the impact. Everything in the cavern was covered in watery black slime. Open mouthed, I watched it drip to the floor, sizzling and steaming as it sank into the sand.

Though my ears were ringing from the explosion, I became aware of a strange sound: a long, gasping sigh, drawn out and rasping. It made me think: _death rattle_. Slowly, it faded away. The black slime hissed and evaporated rapidly as I watched it, disappearing without trace. Only the acrid odour remained. There was no sign at all of the ruby phoenix.

My throat was so dry. I swallowed, took a deep breath, and came out from behind the cabinet.

"Why – why did you do that?" I asked croakily. "I thought you wanted it back?"

The Djinn was laughing again, rubbing its hands together in glee. "Oh, I did," it replied. "I _did_. More than anything in the world."

Juliet stepped forward, over a large, twisted fragment of cauldron. "Well – now you've destroyed it, for whatever reason of your own," she said, surprisingly calm. I had never seen her look so determined. She took my hand and pulled me forward. "And now, my sister would like to make her wish. We've waited long enough. We had a deal."

"Yes, yes, yes, what is it you want? Gold? Long life? An illness cured? True love? You're all the same...so _dull_...so _predictable..."_ the Djinn said dismissively, drifting away from us to the far corner of its den, where there was a large, bare patch of sandy ground.

"Ah, we meet at last _..._ " The Djinn said softly to itself, gazing at the floor. It traced its hand through the air and the sand shifted, marking out a perfect circle.

"Go on, Jennifer," said Juliet, glancing at me. "It's your wish."

I stared at the circle in the sand.

"Please," I ventured. "What's that circle for?"

"Jen!" my sister hissed behind me, furiously. "Why do you care what it's doing? It's just trying to distract you."

I shot her a look, then, that silenced her. I still had a feeling that something bad was about to happen and I had to find out what, if the Djinn would tell us.

It turned slowly to face me, its grotesque face still lit up with triumph. "What for, my dearie? Why, it is for our new guests. They will be _most_ welcome..."

"New guests? Who?"

The Djinn grinned widely. "You've met before. It will be a _most_ pleasurable reunion. Now, let me see...let's not waste time...youngest first, I think!"

It reached towards the circle and beckoned, just once, with its finger.

 _Pop!_

Horror consumed me and I screamed. "No! _No!_ What have you brought him here for!"

The baby, Kaspar, was sat in the circle, mouth open in surprise. He was clutching a soft embroidered blanket, as though he had just been whipped from his cot. He looked up at the Djinn with his beautiful dark eyes, wide with growing fear. I darted forward without thinking, scooping up Kaspar in my arms. He was warm and heavy.

"Don't worry, Kaspar, baby," I crooned. "Jennifer's here."

The Djinn cackled, and Kaspar, the initial shock over, burst into terrified tears. I might have been a total stranger, but after taking another look at the laughing Djinn he buried his face in my hair and clung to me. I gave Juliet a frantic glance. She had her hands over her mouth and her eyes were wide, darting from Kaspar to the Djinn and back again.

"Why is he here?" I asked the Djinn again, backing away with the sobbing Kaspar in my arms. I hit the back wall and couldn't go any further. My insides were twisted with fear. "What could you possibly want with Kaspar?"

"Oh, now, he is just the first...in a long line...and at last, we will be revenged, all the wronged Djinn of this desert!" The Djinn's voice had risen to a screech and it surged forwards, ripping Kaspar out of my arms.

"No!"

But it held the baby high in the air, high out of my reach. Kaspar howled and held his plump arms out to me desperately. " _Yessss_ , oh, yes! The oldest betrayal in history is about to be revenged!"

The Djinn looked utterly insane. The words poured forth as though it had bottled up these angry thoughts for centuries.

"One by one, the direct line of the traitor prince, Bardiya, will die in this pit, the very place where he _stole_ magic from us in the very beginning - and then used it against us!"

"B-but," I stuttered, "that was thousands of years ago –"

"And every year that passed, every time another one of you was born, the insult ran deeper! All you witches and wizards who think you're so _powerful_ , so untouchable, your magic stems from a lie – from a dirty, _filthy_ betrayal of a Djinn who fell in love – with a worthless, stinking human! I am her great-great-great-great-great granddaughter – and this infant and all the wretched Yazdanis are Bardiya's direct line. And _now,"_ the Djinn hissed, firing out each word like the bullet from a gun, _"they_ \- _will_ \- PAY _!_ "

Keep it talking, I thought desperately, keep it talking and think of something before it hurts Kaspar.

"Why now?" I blurted. "Why can you summon them now and not before?"

The Djinn let out a snort. "Why? Why? Because of _you_ , silly child, why else?"

"W- _what_?" I said, appalled. Beside me, Juliet let out the tiniest whimper.

The Djinn sneered at my expression. "The thief Bardiya knew we would hunt him and his family down and kill them for his actions, so at the very beginning he created the ruby, the phoenix you retrieved from the palace...it contained his very blood, and more, and it shielded the entire sneaking, creeping wizarding race from retribution."

I swallowed. What had we done? "For so long?" I whispered.

"For however long the ruby lasted," answered the Djinn. "The only ones we were ever able to kill were those few who sought us out by choice..."

Almost elegantly, it indicated towards the skulls hanging from the ceiling hooks.

An even uglier look grew on its face as it contemplated its next words. "He was powerful, Bardiya, too powerful...the very first wizard, given the equal power of a Djinn! Imagine! His magic was watered down through the generations, but that ruby held a power wizards today could not even dream of...and for thousands of years it was heavily guarded. But we bode our time. You see, your kind do not have such long memories as us Djinn, and with each generation the jewel's purpose began to pass into the realm of legend and fairytale, until at last the story was forgotten altogether...else the family would have protected it better...finally, it became no more than an ornament...a careless decoration...and now, at last...it is nothing!"

My head was starting to ache terribly and I could hear Juliet starting to hyperventilate behind me. The skulls hanging from the ceiling behind the Djinn stared balefully at me through gaping eye sockets. Kaspar. The Djinn was going to murder Kaspar and the rest of his family one by one and hang their skulls up there too. And why would it stop with the Yazdanis? The rest of the wizarding world could be summoned to this pit now, one by one, and squashed like a never-ending line of helpless flies...

"Oh no," I heard Juliet whimpering behind me through her uncontrollable gasps. "Oh no, oh no, oh Merlin, oh, oh..."

Then - with a little leap of my heart - I saw just a glimmer of hope. The Djinn was so absorbed in its own victory, so eager to tell its grievances and its triumph, it had failed to account for one thing. We still had a deal, a magically binding one. Perhaps, just perhaps, this wasn't the way it had to go.

Slowly savouring its victory, the Djinn held Kaspar up, grasping his wailing head in one foul hand and his plump little body in the other. I felt a thrill of sheer terror. He was about to twist off the baby's head.

"WAIT!" I yelled. "I wish – I wish that all witches, wizards, and Muggles – and Squibs too – could be safe from the Djinn, forever and _ever_! That's what I wish! I wish it now!"

A heartbeat – the Djinn's head snapped round to look at me – I caught just one glimpse of an expression of indescribable fury and shock – and it screeched like a thousand demons –

" _NOOOOOOOOOO!_ "

And then – and then –

In the fraction of a second before a white, swirling mist enveloped us, I saw that Kaspar was gone, the Djinn's hands suddenly grasping air. Its livid screams faded to nothing.

My body felt suddenly weightless. We were floating away...


	30. After the Storm

Juliet

" _Oof!_ "

I landed in an untidy heap, on a familiar, soft green carpet. Surely not! I sucked in my breath, stunned, and reached out to touch it...it was our own carpet...in our very own bedroom. Hardly daring to believe my eyes, I raised my head. Seconds before I had been sharing a stinking sandpit with a crazed monster. Now, I had been spirited back home, and was safe in our room in Devon.

 _Pop!_

Jennifer appeared beside me. She stared, too, taking in our bedroom with wide eyes, and I winced as I took in her appearance. Oh, Merlin. She looked a complete wreck – white-faced, drawn, shaking, her hair in a mess and her clothes torn and dirty. She took a deep, shuddering breath. Then, slowly, her face crumpled and she started to sob.

"Oh, Jennifer –" I said, gathering my sister in my arms, realising that I was trembling too. "It's okay – we're safe now..."

"I k-know," Jennifer hiccoughed. "Sorry – it's just – the shock. I thought – I really thought we were done for...and _Kaspar_..."

The image of the Djinn gloating over the little baby boy, getting ready to murder him in the most horrible manner, flashed back into my mind and I shivered.

"I know. I know. It was so close..."

We sat silently, gathering our wits together. Slowly, I felt a profound exhaustion wash over me, sinking into my very bones. We'd barely slept in two days, driven relentlessly on by sheer adrenalin. I sat, torpid, and trembling, Jennifer looking in much the same state as I felt.

The house was very quiet. Good – if Mum and Dad were out, that was something, at least. I concentrated on breathing deeply and telling myself the horrible ordeal was over. Eventually, I stopped shaking so much and I could feel Jennifer calming down too as we began to grasp the enormity of what had just happened.

"Jen," I said at last, shaking myself from my torpor. "You know, you were – well – _brilliant_. More than brilliant. There isn't a word for how brilliant you were. You got us home alive – and you didn't just save Kaspar too – you saved all of us. The whole wizarding world owes you their lives."

It was only just beginning to sink in, how incredibly quick-thinking my sister had been. Everyone – witch, wizard, Squib or Muggle – was safe, forever, from Djinn retribution...

But Jennifer was shaking her head.

"We helped destroy the ruby phoenix," she said quietly. "We put everyone in danger. If we hadn't been so stupid we wouldn't've _had_ to save anyone."

"Well – technically – but anyway, it's over now." I sighed. "I – I'm really sorry we didn't get our original wish, but we'll find another way. I'll find another way."

Jennifer had been staring at her hands, but at this her head jerked up. "You've _got_ to be kidding," she said, looking piercingly at me. "Oh no, you're not, are you..."

"What? Why would I be kidding?"

She made a funny spluttering noise. "Oh, I can't believe you're saying this. We nearly died! We nearly – you know what else we nearly did! We're _not_ messing with this stuff anymore, Juliet. That's it. We just have to accept it, we are who we are."

A lump rose in my throat and I felt tears spring into my eyes. Surely she didn't mean this. It had to be the shock.

"But Jen...we _didn't_ die. Everything's fine."

"Is it?" Jennifer fired back. "We've lost Hugo's beautiful family tent, and that's _pennies_ compared to the other thing we've lost. Hm? Forgotten that, have you?"

It hit me, then. The magic carpet. Shari'im. Four thousand miles away, under the desert sand. I looked at Jennifer in horror.

"Oh, Jen...Shari'im...how can we possibly pay back Ali Bashir! That's – thousands of Galleons!"

"And how about Hugo?" Jennifer replied, waspishly. "His memory of the last week has been obliterated and he's currently being babysat by Ali's sister. How are you planning to explain that to his parents? And isn't his mum the Minister for Magic?"

"Yes, yes, yes..." I groaned, burying my face in my hands. "Okay, fine. You're right. We do have quite a lot of problems..."

"We have to get cleaned up," Jennifer muttered, getting to her feet with an effort and glancing out of the window at the driveway. "Looks like Mum and Dad are out, the car's gone – oh, no..."

I heard the car roll up outside and shot Jennifer a panicked glance. I knew I looked as rough as she did.

"Quick, jump in the shower," I said, grabbing her some clean clothes from our closet and bundling Jennifer out of the room. "I'll make sure they don't see us till we look all right."

When I heard the key turn in the lock, and the rustle and clink of grocery bags as Mum and Dad entered the hallway, I called out to them from the landing.

"Hello!"

"Oh - is that you, darlings?" Mum called back. "You're home early..."

"Er - yes," I shouted, thinking quickly. It felt as though we'd been away for weeks, but of course it had only been a few days. "Um – Hugo's parents got called into work - so we had to come home... We're just getting cleaned up – we got kind of muddy!"

"Oh, okay...that's good..."

I frowned. Even from up here, I thought Mum's voice sounded weird. Sort of flat, and sad. And usually she'd be full of questions if we'd been away. Dad hadn't said a word, either.

"You okay, Mum? Dad?"

Dad's voice floated up the stairs. "Yes, sweetheart. It's good you're back early, actually. You girls get yourselves sorted and come downstairs. We have something we need to tell you both."

My heart sank. Sweetheart? Dad rarely called us that, unless it was bad news...

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

That evening, the four of us sat in the living room, half-heartedly playing a game of cards. Jennifer's face was pink and blotchy from tears and every now and again she gave a telltale sniff. She'd taken the news much harder than me. I'd only met Aunt Ada a few times, but while I was at Hogwarts she'd Apparated over for lunch almost every Sunday. I had been shocked and saddened when I heard, but Jennifer had burst into tears, and run upstairs to shut herself in our room. I joined her shortly afterwards and after sobbing furiously into her pillow, for a while, exhaustion had overcome her. Two days without sleep had caught up with us, and we both fell into a deep sleep, waking sluggishly much later when Mum gently coaxed us down for dinner.

" _Hoo_. _Hoo_?"

Patty the owl hooted sadly from the corner of the room. She was perched on top of the bookcase with Apollo and Artemis, who were both looking at her sorrowfully.

"Oh, Patty..." Mum sighed. "That poor dear owl."

Dad cleared his throat. "Girls, you don't have to come, but the – ah – the funeral – it's next Wednesday. Up where Aunt Ada lived, in Seahouses – in the north-east. Your mother and I will go, of course."

"We'll come too," Jennifer said, throatily, after a pause. "Pay our respects."

"Yeah, definitely," I agreed.

"All right," Mum said. "You're good girls, both of you..."

I looked guiltily down at my hand of cards, not seeing them at all. Good girls. The news of Aunt Ada's sudden passing from an acute attack of dragonpox had distracted me, but we most certainly had not been good. The lost carpet. The lost tent. Hugo. Anxiety gnawed at my chest.

Dad nudged me. "Your turn, Juliet."

"Oh. Actually, I think I might go to bed, if that's okay," I said, laying my cards down.

"Me too," Jennifer said, standing up. "Do you mind?"

Mum gave me a sad smile. "Of course not, darlings. You both look tired, you must have not got nearly enough sleep while you were camping! See you in the morning."

Once upstairs, Jennifer actually did get into her pyjamas and climbed into bed. Her pillow still had a big wet patch on it from earlier. She flipped it over, sighed, and looked over at me.

"Aren't you going to bed, Juliet?"

I shook my head. "Soon. But I want to write to Ali Bashir – and to Hugo. You can read the letters in the morning."

Jennifer nodded. "Okay. Tell Ali we'll pay him. Somehow. And tell Hugo –"

"Go to sleep," I told her. "I'll work it out. You're shattered too."

Jennifer gave me a grateful smile, and turned on her side, snuggling into the duvet. "It's – just the worst thing - about Aunt Ada," she murmured. "But I'm glad we're home." A few minutes later her breathing slowed and she started snoring very softly.

Quietly, I gathered up some parchment and dipped my quill into the ink pot on our desk, wondering what I could possibly say. I had a feeling Ali Bashir could get quite ugly if he was owed money.

Well, all I could do was try.

 _Dear Mr Bashir,_

 _I'm afraid our quest failed. There's a reason why witches and wizards don't ask Djinn for wishes. They are REALLY dangerous. We were very lucky to escape with our lives._

 _We're also extremely sorry to have to tell you that in escaping, we had to abandon the magic carpet. There isn't any way to retrieve her, I'm afraid. We know we will owe you the money to cover her loss. Please understand that we do not have any money just at the moment, but we honestly will find a way to earn enough to pay you back in time._

 _I know you were worried about Hugo's family finding out about your involvement in our trip. Well, they are expecting him back home on Friday. If you just make sure he gets home safely then, I guess his mum, the Minister for Magic, won't ask too many questions. I'm writing him a letter to explain some stuff so he won't be too confused. Don't worry, I won't mention your involvement at all._

 _Sorry again about the carpet. She was a really good carpet._

 _Juliet and Jennifer Belstone_

I scanned it, and sighed. We'd just have to hope Ali wouldn't come banging on our door, demanding the money from Mum and Dad,and they wouldn't have it, either. Oh, Merlin. We could be in serious trouble if he wanted instant payment. But if he'd just let us pay him back bit by bit...Jennifer and I could get holiday jobs, although we'd probably be in debt for years, probably even until we were adults and working properly. My head spun and I groaned. We owed Hugo for his tent, too, and I knew that wouldn't be cheap...and what if his parents investigated the reason for its disappearance and found out about our totally illegal trip?

The lost tent aside, I felt horribly guilty about Hugo. I had a lot of explaining to do when I saw him next term. For now – we just had to keep his family from asking any questions. I picked up the quill again with a small sigh. Hopefully he'd understand.

 _Hey Hugo,_

 _Look, I know you are going to be totally confused at the moment. I'm not sure how much you remember leading up to where you are now, but here's the thing._

 _I know you've spent the last few days being looked after by a lady you'd never met before in your life, and that you don't know how you got there. I hope she's been nice to you and you've not been too scared. It's totally my fault. You were trying to help me and Jennifer with something, and you accidentally got your memory wiped. We had to leave you for a few days, we really didn't want to but we had no choice. You're going to be taken back home to Ottery St Catchpole on Friday, which is when your family are expecting you._

 _I'm really, really, REALLY sorry. I hope I can make it up to you somehow._

 _Also, you lent me your family's beautiful tent, and I hate to tell you that I lost it. Totally lost it, Summoning spells are not going to work, unfortunately. It's awful, I know. I will find a way to pay you back but I don't have any money at the moment and we also owe someone else a lot of money for something else we lost. As you can tell, it's been a pretty awful few days._

 _I know you'll probably be furious with me and I oughtn't ask you for any more favours, but please, PLEASE, cover for us and don't let on to your family where you've really been this week, please let them carry on thinking you were staying with me and Jennifer. You will do that for us, won't you? It's terribly important._

 _I promise, I'll explain everything when I see you at Hogwarts!_

 _Send me an answer back with Artemis, if you can._

 _Hugs,_

 _Juliet_

I reread both letters, chewing my lip, then pushed them away from me and stood up with a shrug. Well – it was the best I could do.

I got ready for bed and switched out the light. But that night – even though I was tired to the bone after everything that had happened - I tossed and turned, and lay awake, fretting, until the early hours...


	31. The Surprising History of Ada Dibbs

_August, 2020_

Jennifer

The breeze, constant up here, whistled through the yew trees and down to the small crowd outside the old church on the hill. My hair fluttered and I breathed in deeply. It made me feel good, this wind. I could see why Aunt Ada had loved this remote place, and chosen to spend her life here.

I couldn't bear to watch the coffin being lowered into the ground and covered with soil, and looked away, past the jumble of colourfully-painted, slate-roofed cottages, to the swell of the grey sea. Too far to hear their cries, gulls and gannets dipped over the waves, and further out I glimpsed low rocky islands, looking like the edge of the world.

"A kind and generous spirit, she lived in peace and solitude here in Seahouses..."

Aunt Ada had never mentioned the man who was presiding over her funeral – a lean, hardy-looking man, whose looks spoke of a tough life spent outdoors.

"...a gentle soul, who loved her garden, and nurtured many rare magical plants here in the salty, unforgiving air..."

His surprisingly soft voice, and gentle eyes that were often cast downwards, made me think that he was not used to public speaking, and perhaps avoided people altogether. There was only a small huddle of people around Aunt Ada's grave, however; our family, of course, and a small assortment of mostly elderly witches and wizards. Professor Vector was the only one I knew.

"Before she settled into that quiet life, however, Ada Dibbs had many adventures..."

I was surprised to hear this, and could tell my family were too. Aunt Ada had only ever mentioned a dull office job in the Ministry of Magic, and deflected most questions about her past.

"As you may know, I am here today to speak on behalf of my grandmother, Tina Scamander, and my grandfather, Newt, who both knew Ada well," said the hardy-looking man, with a nod to his left. A very old wizard was resting in a chair specially brought out for him – a frail wisp of a man, with fine white hair and limbs so thin and quivery I felt as though the brisk Northumbrian breeze could blow him clean away. A straight-backed, alert-looking elderly witch stood beside his chair with one hand lying protectively on his shoulder; and a dreamy-looking witch with straggly pale-blonde hair stood on the other side, smiling absently and – to my surprise – humming softly to herself.

Oddly, at the mention of the Scamanders, the crowd stirred and mumbled, most of the witches and wizards nodding respectfully at the ancient-looking wizard. I glanced at Juliet, but she shrugged back at me, puzzled.

"After leaving Hogwarts in 1924 with Outstanding NEWTs in Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures, Ada Dibbs fell in love with a Muggle from here in Seahouses, the village in which she grew up. The Muggle's name was Thomas Bell, and they were soon engaged to be married.

"But of course the world was on the cusp of the greatest wizarding war in history. When the followers of Grindelwald began to grow in strength, pursuing and ruthlessly eliminating Muggleborns, half-bloods, and anyone else they considered a danger to so-called pure-blood wizarding society, Ada and Thomas began their escape to the United States of America; where they believed they would find safety and freedom. As most of you know, Thomas was killed by one of Grindelwald's spies before they reached the boat, and Ada narrowly escaped with her life. She travelled on to America alone, to escape her sorrow. Thomas' body was brought back home to his parents."

The man nodded towards the headstone next to Ada's grave, to which I had paid no attention before, and now realised read: _Thomas Bell, beloved son of John and Susan Bell, taken too soon. 1905-1924. R.I.P._

"Alone in New York, Ada found herself in a dangerous position. The world was in turmoil and America, once the land of freedom, was changing. New laws had been recently passed, and marriage - and even friendship - between wizards and Muggles was now illegal in the United States. Ada had to hide her past, and so she sought safety with those who cared little for Ministry laws and simply welcomed her gentle nature, her love for and knowledge of magical plants and animals: a Native American magical community, the Narragansett tribe of Rhode Island. They are an ancient and learned people.

"Glad, at that time, to forget, Ada gave up her wand, and became an honorary member of this wandless tribe. For two years she shared her own knowledge, and learned new and wonderful ways with rare plants and magical creatures...

"But war was still raging and in 1926 Ada knew she had to return to Europe, and do her bit to fight against the forces of darkness. She took up her wand, and boarded a ship bound for London. On that ship she met my father. He –"

But the man broke off, in surprise, as the frail old wizard coughed and struggled to rise from his chair. His wife steadied him anxiously, and the dreamy-looking witch had a gentle hand under his other arm.

"Grandpa? What are you –"

The old wizard held up a shaky hand.

"I will tell the rest of Ada's story, Rolf, thank you," he said in a voice that was surprisingly firm and clear. "I owe her that much."

Rolf Scamander was clearly surprised, but nodded and motioned for the rest of us to shuffle round until we were all facing the old man, Newt. When all attention was upon him, the old wizard spoke.

"Ada became a good friend and companion on board that ship. The best. She was still grieving for her lost fiancé, and I had just left behind my Tina at the New York harbour. We helped each other through the long sea-journey back to Britain and she was a great comfort to me, reminding me that Tina was only ever an owl's flight away, and being quite sure we would one day live a long and happy life together. She was right."

The elderly witch, who had flushed a little pink, leaned over to give Newt a quick kiss on his wrinkled cheek.

"On her return to Britain Ada found a job in the Ministry, using her skill with plants and her knowledge gained from the Narrangansett to help develop antidotes to strange new poisons being employed by Grindelwald's spies. Her work saved countless lives. And after the war – when my travel ban was at last revoked –"

At this, there were low chuckles from a few of the older witches and wizards.

" – I invited Ada to join me and Tina on our expeditions all over the world, finding, helping, and documenting the rarest magical creatures on the planet. She was an able companion, and a wonder with wild beasts. Much of the information in the newer editions of _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ was gathered with Ada's aid. When she tired of this life – for it was hard physical work, and we were always on the move – she came back to Seahouses at last, to retire near Thomas' resting place. After many years away, Tina and I believe that Ada at last found some measure of peace and happiness here. Although I am filled with sorrow at her passing, my heart is glad, at least, to know that she and Thomas are together once more, after more than ninety years. May they rest in peace."

He drew his wand with a shaking hand and waved it at the two graves, muttering something. I looked curiously to see what he had done, but could see nothing. He sighed, and shaking violently now, as though the effort of standing had truly exhausted him, sank back into his chair. The dreamy-looking witch gently touched his cheek, then drew her own wand and flicked it in the same direction. Instantly, plants bloomed from the soil of the two graves, growing rapidly until their leaves touched and their stems entwined. White flowers blossomed over both.

Newt smiled at the dreamy witch. "Thank you, Luna, my dear," he said, amid a murmur of approval and even a couple of quiet cheers. To my surprise, I found I was smiling, although I had cried quietly through parts of Newt's speech. Juliet squeezed my hand and Mum and Dad both patted our shoulders, smiling too.

"I never knew any of that, but I was glad to hear it," Mum said quietly to us.

"Yeah, me too."

"And me. She's at peace now."

Mum and Dad wandered over to stand by Aunt Ada's grave, looking with pleasure at the entwining plants. The small crowd started respectfully to disperse, saying their goodbyes to each other before slipping out of the side gate or wandering nonchalantly into the shade of the yew trees with a quick glance around for curious Muggles, before Disapparating.

I jumped when I found Professor Vector had appeared beside us as silently as an owl.

"Hello, Professor," Juliet said, politely.

"Hello, Juliet," Vector replied, a little distantly. "Hello again, Jennifer. Thank you for coming... have you girls had a good summer so far?"

We glanced at each other.

"Er – yeah, not bad, I suppose..." Juliet muttered, not looking Vector in the eye. The Professor looked searchingly at us both, for a moment, but I could tell she was still distracted and sorrowful.

"Well, then," she said. "I hope you've not been in any trouble. But then, what else are summers for?"

We both laughed, awkwardly.

"Well, I'd best be off," Vector said. "See you at Hogwarts, Juliet..."

And she lifted her hand in farewell, and slipped into the shade of the yew trees to Disapparate. It was then that I realised Mum and Dad were walking over to join to Tina and Rolf Scamander, and the witch Newt had called Luna. The family were crowding around Newt in concern. Standing and speaking had evidently been too much. His face was grey and drawn, but he tried to wave them off.

"I'll be fine," I heard him say. "I just need a little rest..."

"Can we help at all?" Mum asked, as we came up beside them.

Tina shrugged helplessly. "I'm not sure – thank you, Mrs -?"

"Call me Fiona. I'm Ada's niece."

"You're Muggles?"

"Yes. Apart from Juliet here."

Juliet squirmed away from Tina's piercing gaze as Mum laid a hand on her shoulder.

"I see. Well, Fiona, thank you, but we'll manage, I'm sure. The problem is I think my husband might be too frail for the journey home. His health has been failing lately –"

"But not my hearing," muttered the old wizard, glancing up peevishly, but then leaning over and coughing – a thin, dry cough that made me wince to hear it.

" – and he isn't strong enough to Apparate himself anymore. Rolf and Luna brought him up this morning by Side-Along Apparition, but even that rather took it out of him, more than we expected. I daren't subject him to it again, at least not for a few days...and even then..."

I looked from Tina to Newt and back again, a few times, silently comparing them. If I hadn't known they were husband and wife, I would never have guessed. She looked old, certainly – older than Aunt Ada, for her face was more lined and she moved more slowly, though her eyes were shrewd and sharp. But Newt – he looked truly ancient, as though he could be a whole generation older. I couldn't help wondering at the difference between them.

"I see," Mum said, biting her lip in concern. "Well, perhaps we can help. We've rented a cottage up here until Wednesday, while we sort out a few things – we have a meeting with Ada's solicitor, and so forth – and I'm sure the girls wouldn't mind sleeping on the sofas if your husband needs a room to rest in? You could both stay..."

Newt, his coughing fit over, looked up at our family, his eyes creasing in a smile. Tina smiled too, relief and gratitude written all over her face.

"Thank you," she said. "That would be most welcome."

Suddenly, to my surprise, Juliet piped up beside me. "Do you live in Ottery St Catchpole, too?"

"Why, yes –" Tina said, blinking. "How did you know that?"

"I didn't," Juliet said. "It was a guess. Erm – I know Lorcan and Lysander from Hogwarts, a bit, you see, and my friend Hugo mentioned they live not far from him. Hugo Granger-Weasley."

Luna smiled widely and Tina clapped her hands in delight. "Why, yes! My grandson Rolf is great friends with the Weasleys. Luna here went to Hogwarts with Hugo's parents, you know. We all live together, now. Newt and I were finding it hard to manage on our own, in our old age."

My head was spinning at all these complicated relationships, but Juliet was nodding.

"Well, I was just thinking," she said, "Maybe if Apparition is too tiring, if he would like, we could take Mr Scamander back to Ottery St Catchpole with us in the car – we live in Devon too - that's if Dad doesn't mind?"

"Not at all," Dad said immediately. "Glad to help, if we can."

Tina reached out and shook Dad's hand, then beamed at Juliet and the rest of us. "You're too kind. That would be a very great help. Rolf and Luna can Apparate back home tonight, but if you wouldn't object to me magically enlarging the inside of your car, my husband and I would gladly accept a lift home. We would need to direct you as we get close, as Ottery can be hard for Muggles to find..."

We looked down at Newt to see what he thought of the plan, but the old man's head had sunk onto his chest and he was snoring softly. Rolf laughed, and he and Dad, sharing a glance, took an arm of the old wizard's chair each and lifted him – he looked light as a feather – and we began a slow walk back to our cottage.


	32. Travels with Newt

Juliet

Newt Scamander was a fascinating old man, and in the few days he spent recuperating with us in Seahouses, we became great friends.

"Snap – crackling Chimaeras, that was a big 'un!"

Lorcan and Lysander's mum, Luna, had left us with a pack of Exploding Snap cards before she and Rolf Disapparated back home. Newt loved this game, chuckling every time the pile exploded. His wife – seeing how much he enjoyed our company – left us to it, and spent her time tending Aunt Ada's garden of magical plants. Mum and Dad were kept busy tying up various matters with Aunt Ada's solicitor, Theodore Hindmarsh.

Newt was comfortably installed in an old rocking chair in the conservatory, with Patty, Apollo and Artemis, all squabbling to sit on his shoulders and lap and rummage through his shirt pockets for owl treats.

"Have you ever kept a Chimaera, Mr Scamander?"

Newt looked wistful.

"Ah, sadly not. Marvellous beasts, Chimaeras! But I never met one which needed my help. Chimaeras generally do well enough without wizarding intervention. They are a thriving species."

"Why don't Muggles see them, then?" Jennifer asked, curiously.

Newt looked uncomfortable. "Well, I think perhaps they do, my dear. The trouble is, Chimaeras have a bit of an unfortunate reputation. But they would never go _looking_ to attack people, you know. Wizards know to stay well away, but Muggles – mountain hikers, usually – do stumble across them. Their disappearances are usually assumed to be down to bad weather, or rockfalls...or getting lost in caves."

I found this quite interesting, but Jennifer looked appalled, so I put a card on the pile and changed the subject.

"Why d'you reckon Aunt Ada never told us about her travels with you and Mrs Scamander? Didn't she want us to know?"

"Oh, well now," Newt said, gently. "Ada never minding people knowing. She just couldn't bear the _telling_. Her past was so painful...full of regret. Her time exploring the world with me and my wife – well, she was very good at what she did, but it was all simply an escape. The only way to forget was to look forwards. Snap!"

For all his frailty, there was nothing wrong with his mind. He beat us at Exploding Snap nearly every time. Jennifer and I were down to our last few cards.

"It's not a bad idea," Jennifer said, as Newt gathered up the cards he'd won. "Always looking forwards. It's what I reckon we need to do, especially now."

I looked at her, annoyed. "What d'you mean?"

"Oh, you know. Your go, Juliet."

I didn't move. "I _do_ look forwards. I just look differently to you."

Jennifer shrugged, and didn't reply. I couldn't help but be angry with her, although a tiny part of me admitted she was just being sensible. My hand moved automatically to my pocket, where I could feel the folds of a letter. It was only parchment, but it weighed on my mind like lead. It was Ali Bashir's reply, recently received – his stone cold fury at the loss of his magic carpet leapt off the page, and he expected to be compensated in full. Five thousand Galleons he wanted, plus interest for late payment. His threats hung over us like a grim black cloud.

Newt cleared his throat softly. "You see different futures for yourselves?" he asked quietly, bringing our thoughts back to the subject at hand.

If it had been anyone else, I would have changed the subject. But I'd grown to like the gentle old man. I couldn't see any harm in telling him, and, after a moment, I did.

"Jennifer reckons she's happy to be a Muggle, now. But – well, think of Lorcander and Lysander. They're at Hogwarts together, and having the time of their lives, I bet. Can you imagine if one of them was a Squib? I want Jennifer to have magic, too."

Newt took a while to answer, and when he did, it wasn't what I expected. "Magic can be over-rated, you know. Spells and wand-waving. Oh, it's useful, don't get me wrong. But I could live without. In fact I do, nowadays, really."

I thought of his failed attempt at a flower-growing charm in the churchyard, and Luna stepping in to do it for him.

"Does magic – you know – get weaker, as you get older?" I asked. "I'd never heard that before."

Newt hesitated, and I wondered if I'd been rude.

"Sorry," I said quickly. "I didn't mean –"

"No, no..." Newt said, not meeting our eyes. "I just find it a bit of a struggle nowadays...but as long as I have certain things, I'm content..."

"Your creatures?" Jennifer guessed, beside me.

"Exactly," he said, smiling at her, the tension broken. "And Muggles and Squibs – well, they could look after many magical creatures just as well as a wizard could – if they opened their minds, that is. Many Squibs can live interesting and varied lives within the wizarding community, as assistant Herbologists and Magizoologists, if they can find a witch or wizard willing to take them under their wing."

This was definitely interesting, but still felt unsatisfactory to me. "But – what about the rest of it?" I said. "I love spells and wand-waving! It's fun! I hate that I inherited all the magic – I'd gladly _give_ Jen half my magic, but I've been through every relevant book in the school library, and that's not possible."

"It's beside the point," Jennifer said, clearly getting irritated. "I'm going to be a scientist, anyway."

"Are you now?" said Newt. "Well, there you go..."

And he gave a long sigh, looking troubled, and tired. His attention, usually so focused and direct, seemed to be wandering.

"Are you okay, Mr Scamander?" I asked, slightly alarmed. Had we exhausted him, with our chatter and games? "If you want to have a bit of a sleep or anything, we can leave you alone."

"Oh, I'm all right," Newt replied, looking back to us with a bit of an effort. "You've just – given me a lot to think about. And – well, I am starting to wish I were home. I have many creatures there, you see, and Rolf and Luna, and the two boys, they're very good at looking after them...but there are a few which I am happier taking care of myself..."

I reached over and patted the old wizard's arm. "Don't you worry, Mr Scamander. You'll be back soon."

At that moment, Jennifer's mobile started ringing, which made us all jump. She scrabbled for it in her pocket and pulled it out. Newt looked from the phone to Jennifer, bewildered.

"It's Dad..." Jennifer tapped the screen and answered. "Hi, Dad?"

"It's a Muggle method of communication," I whispered to Newt, who looked intrigued.

"How peculiar...your father is speaking through that – that little box?"

Jennifer was listening intently. "Yes, we're at the cottage...oh, right... okay...yes, sure, we'll see you there."

She stood up, tucking the phone back into her pocket.

"Dad's at Aunt Ada's place, they've found the will. It was in the garden shed, of all places, under a flowerpot! Mrs Scamander found it when she was re-potting something. We've got to come over, Mr Hindmarsh wants us both there. We'll see you later, Mr Scamander..."

"Goodbye, girls...you know, maybe I will have that little sleep..." Newt smiled at us, sinking back into the comfortable chair.

"You should, Mr Scamander! Bye!"

We blew him affectionate kisses and hurried out.

* * *

That night, when everyone else had gone to bed and Jennifer and I were huddled together under a spare duvet on the living room sofa, I relaxed and let the relief wash over me in waves.

Relief mingled with shock and also with guilt – but relief nonetheless. I knew Jennifer was feeling just the same.

"She's saved our skins, hasn't she?"

"Yeah, she has," Jennifer replied, in the dark. "She really has. We don't deserve it one bit. And I feel terrible."

"I know. I know... it wasn't what she'd have planned. She would've wanted it to help with our futures – but if she knew what we'd got ourselves into, she'd understand."

"Well, it can't be helped, anyway. Juliet, d'you want to write to Ali now? I'll feel better when I know he won't come bursting into our home demanding Mum and Dad pay him off, or anything."

"Yeah, let's do it now."

We slipped off the sofa, turned one of the little table lamps on, and as quietly as we could, found a pen and a piece of paper. Artemis and Apollo flew over and jostled my hand as I wrote, both eager to be the one to take it.

"Hey, you two – get out of the way. She can't write with you doing that." Jennifer reached out and gathered them both into her lap, where they hooted softly in protest.

I wrote the letter quickly.

 _Dear Mr Bashir,_

 _Just to let you know that we will be able to pay you what we owe. We've recently learned that we are going to inherit some money, and luckily it will just cover this amount. We'll pay you as soon as the funds are transferred into our bank accounts, which will probably be a month or two, so please await a postal order by owl._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Juliet and Jennifer Belstone_

I chewed the end of the biro. "I still don't trust him, you know. What if he takes the money and still rats us out to someone, out of spite?"

Jennifer shook her head. "He wouldn't dare. We could rat him out too. We probably couldn't prove anything, he's too slippery for that, but he won't want anyone from the Ministry poking their nose any further than they already are into his business."

"Yeah...I guess. I feel awful, though." I stared down at the letter. "Aunt Ada's life savings...thrown away on that despicable man! And what precious little is left, we're probably going to have to offer to Hugo's family, for the tent, somehow."

" _And_ we have to try to make sure Mum and Dad never find out your Gringotts vault and my new bank account are both empty...can you imagine..."

In the dim half-light, my sister's face looked drawn and tired. I punched her gently on the arm. "As least we're not going to get thrown into Azkaban, and Ali will be off our backs. Let's get some sleep. Don't worry about it – look forward, like Aunt Ada did."

I rolled up the letter and offered it to both owls – Artemis was quicker, she grabbed it in her beak with a muffled hoot, and rubbed her head affectionately against Apollo's before taking off from Jennifer's lap and soaring through the window I pulled open for her.

* * *

After a few days of rest, Newt looked much better and it was decided that he was well enough for the long car journey.

Tina Scamander had enlarged the inside of our Ford Focus so that it looked just the same from the outside, but had room for all of us and more inside. Dad couldn't help himself. At least three times he stuck his head through the door to look inside, then stood back to squint at the ordinary-looking exterior.

"Bloomin' marvellous," he muttered admiringly. Tina chuckled.

Newt was delighted at the prospect of spending the journey together.

"Now then," he said. "I brought a big tray with me, so if we put this on my lap, I'm sure we can manage a few games of Exploding Snap..."

"Oh no, not in the Belstone's car!" Tina told him firmly, taking the pack of cards (which was smoking slightly) away from her husband. "You can play Muggle Snap, or word games. Neither of those will set fire to the upholstery..."

"Ah, my dear...you always were the sensible one..."

Newt looked so disappointed I couldn't help it, I broke out in giggles and so did Jennifer.

With Newt for company, the long journey back down south-west was _much_ more fun than the way up. We stopped a few times at service stations, which were a source of great interest to the Scamanders. Newt – tottering back to the car from the bathroom, leaning on Dad's arm – spotted a vending machine and stopped, intrigued.

"Goodness me. A glass cabinet full of Muggle snacks! But there's no key, or handle?"

Dad grinned at me, and fished out a pound coin from his trouser pocket.

"Here, Mr Scamander...pop this in the slot and punch in the number of something you'd like to try, in this key pad."

"Keep-add..." Newt mumbled, peering through the glass. He pushed the pound coin into the machine and – with encouragement – pressed a couple of buttons. Immediately, the row of Mars bars slid smoothly forward, and one dropped into the tray.

Jennifer bent down, stuck her hand through the flap, and retrieved it. "Here you go, Mr Scamander. One Muggle chocolate bar!"

"Jumping Jackalopes," Newt said, amazed. "That's ingenious!"

Back in the car, despite Tina's stern warning not to drop crumbs on our seats, he broke the Mars bar messily into three and shared it with us.

As dusk drew in and we got closer, Tina began to direct Dad. Ottery St Catchpole wasn't signposted anywhere – although, once we entered the boundaries of the town and read the Muggle welcome sign, we realised that it was simply an ordinary Devon village known by a different Muggle name – one we had heard of, even. No one entering it by road would have known it was half full of witches and wizards.

"And now you know how to get here, you'll be able to visit your friends Lorcan and Lysander and Hugo more often," Newt said with a smile.

I smiled back, awkwardly. Newt had assumed I was friends with the twins, and I hadn't told him otherwise. In fact, my enmity was starting to seem incredibly silly and embarrassing. However rude I was to them, Lorcan and Lysander had only ever been friendly towards me. It was such a one-sided feud, and now that I'd made such good friends with his great-granddad, I knew that I didn't really feel hostile towards them anymore. But would they feel the same to me, after I'd snubbed them for a whole year?

"Here, this is us," Tina Scamander said, after directing us around the edge of the town and over a hill. "We keep ourselves to ourselves."

They certainly did – from where they were, we couldn't see any other houses, shielded by the hill we'd come over, and the little woods around. It was very secluded.

"My husband has too many unusual creatures in his possession for us to live conspicuously," Tina said, with a smile. "You never know when one might accidentally be let loose in the garden..."

Newt was stiff and tired after the long journey, and Jennifer and I helped him to the door while Mum and Dad started getting their coats and bags from the car.

"Thank you, my dears," he gasped. "Well, blessed Bowtruckles, I rather enjoyed that. Muggle travel is terribly relaxing."

I laughed. "And _I_ can't wait to learn how to Apparate. _Pop!_ Just like that, and you're somewhere else."

"Well now, I'm rarely in such a hurry, nowadays..."

He fumbled for his key, and unlocked the door with trembling fingers.

"Ah, I can't wait to see them all..."

Jennifer and I grinned at each other. We had a funny feeling he didn't mean his family, though we were sure he would be happy to see them too.

When the door swung open, the rest of us took an involuntarily step back.

"Wow!"

"Crikey..."

"My darlings!"

There was a cacophony of hoots, trumpets and squawks and Newt was engulfed in a jumble of fur and feathers. I didn't know where to look first – what an array of weird and wonderful creatures crowding around, clearly loving Newt to bits! Birds, crawling things, scampering things, large and small, too strange to name. And more ordinary animals, too – several intelligent-looking cats prowled around the room, watching with interest.

"Why, you've come to meet me, my lovelies!"

"Oh, _Newton_ ," Tina said crossly as she came up behind us. "What are they all doing out? Why aren't they in the basement? You _know_ I hate droppings on the carpets..."

"Not my fault," Newt's voice emerged, muffled, from the middle of the mêlée. "The boys must have let them out...you know how they like to play..."

"Hullo, great-Grandpa Newt! Hullo great-Grandma Tina!"

Lorcan and Lysander appeared, grinning. They looked surprised to see me – and then, even more to see Jennifer – but had no time to say more than a brief "Oh – hullo?" before Tina erupted.

" _RIGHT_ , boys, you let them out, now you get them back in, _all_ of them – except the Kneazles – back in the basement right now! We have GUESTS!"

"Okay, right away, great-Grandma," said one of the twins, scooping up a large hare-like creature with horns like an antelope. He grasped one of the horns firmly so it couldn't twist out of his arms and it blinked up at him with large brown eyes. "Sorry. We didn't let them _all_ out. Only the friendly ones, which wouldn't eat each other. We knew you'd be back today. Reckoned great-Grandpa would be pleased to see 'em."

"Droppings are droppings, friendly or not! And _you_ can sweep up the feathers and anything else they've left from the carpet! Where's your mother and father? You wouldn't have dared, if they were here..."

"Gone for dinner with the Weasleys," said the other twin, deftly catching a bright blue insect which was hovering nearby. He held it carefully, its long sting quivering.

"I'll help you get them back in, boys," Newt said. "And I _am_ pleased..."

We watched, bemused, as the twins and Newt – and Tina, after shaking her head and sighing a bit more – dropped, cajoled, tricked and nudged all the various magical creatures down a trapdoor in the otherwise ordinary living room. They clearly knew exactly what they were doing, as it took a surprisingly short time. At last, all that was left was an over-excited creature like a cross between a platypus and a mole, dashing around our legs with surprising agility. Chuckling, Newt took a gold coin from his pocket and tossed it through the trapdoor. The creature instantly changed course and dived through the hole. Tina closed the trapdoor with a firm thud.

After the cacophony of animal noises, the silence now rang in our ears. A lone feather fluttered to the carpet, which was covered in a variety of trampled animal droppings. Excitement over, the rank smell became painfully obvious. The three Kneazles, clearly sensing trouble, crept quietly out of the room. Tina's lips tightened.

"Er," said one of the twins, sticking his hands in his pockets. "Anyone fancy a cup of tea?"

* * *

"It's like having double vision," Newt said, chuckling, as we gathered in the kitchen. Jennifer and I were sat next to Lorcan and Lysander at the kitchen table, all of us drinking tea. It was pretty weird.

"Something to eat with your tea?" Tina asked, offering us a tin of wizarding sweets.

"Oh, yes please!"

Jennifer's face lit up – she always loved the sweets I'd brought her from the Hogwarts Express trolley. Eagerly, she dipped into the tin and found a Chocolate Frog, her favourite. I took the same.

Newt, Tina and my parents all chuckled after Lorcan and Lysander also picked out Chocolate Frogs, unwrapping them enthusiastically and showing each other the wizard cards that came inside.

"Might I make a suggestion?" Newt said to my parents.

"Please do," Dad said, as he bit into a liquorice wand.

"Well – now that the girls are here – perhaps they would like to stay for a couple of days? As you can see, Juliet is friends with my great-grandsons, and Hugo Granger-Weasley lives just over the hill. I would be delighted to have them to stay, after all you've done for me over the last few days..."

Lorcan and Lysander looked taken aback to be described as my friends. I felt myself blush, glancing at them apologetically, and Jennifer – who had never seen any reason to hate them – gave them a wide, genuine grin which they couldn't help returning.

"Yeah, that'd be really nice, wouldn't it, Lor?" Lysander said to his brother, after a moment. "I dunno why we didn't ask Juliet here before..."

I was blushing furiously now, and their brown eyes laughed at me, but their faces gave nothing away otherwise. Tina was watching with a slightly raised eyebrow, but Newt simply beamed and waited for an answer.

"We'd love to," Jennifer answered, as I was too embarrassed to speak. I felt too silly for words.

Mum and Dad looked at each other, and shrugged and nodded their assent.

"If it's not an imposition," Mum said. "That would be lovely for them...we can pick them up in a couple of days?"

We brought in our bags while they were discussing the arrangements, and it was settled. Tina went to make us up some beds, and Mum and Dad hugged us goodbye then drove off. It felt very strange, being left so suddenly in the friendly, but admittedly eccentric, company of the Scamander family – but somehow, I knew we would have a good time here.

"Well, now, twins, show – er, the twins – where they can sleep. Off you go now. Have fun!"

We nodded and smiled at him, and followed Lorcan and Lysander out of the room. But as I left, Jennifer a little way ahead of me, Newt grabbed my arm with his frail and trembling hand.

"Juliet – you are Juliet, aren't you?"

"Yes?"

"Come see me sometime tomorrow – just you alone – won't you? I have something to show you..."

"I – um –"

"Juliet?"

Jennifer popped her head back into the room just as Newt let go of my arm.

"Yeah – uh – I'm coming."

I glanced back at Newt as I closed the door behind me, and he smiled secretively, raising a shaking finger to his lips.


	33. Catastrophe

Jennifer

An insistent scratching at the bedroom door woke me the next morning. Yawning, I sat up and peered doubtfully in the direction of the noise, then at Juliet. She was still sound asleep, so I slid out of bed and padded to the door in my bare feet.

A moment later I remembered the bizarre menagerie of animals that lived in the basement of this house, and hesitated, my hand on the door handle.

" _Mia-a-aow!"_

Ah...it was just one of the cats. No, not cats, I reminded myself – Kneazles.

I opened the door, and the Kneazle prowled straight in, inspected me with round, intelligent eyes, then leapt onto the bed and settled down, purring loudly. It was a funny-looking creature, with spotted, tawny fur, a tufted tail, and ears that seemed too big for its head.

I gently scratched behind its ears, and Juliet stirred, waking to look down in surprise at the Kneazle curled at her feet.

"Oh, he's so sweet!" She sat up and reached over to stroke it too.

"I love this place, Juliet," I said. "Lorcan and Lysander are brilliant – I can't believe you hated them so much. What's not to like?"

Last night, the twins had quickly made me feel really welcome, asking lots of questions about Greenhill Academy. They'd seemed genuinely interested, not just sorry for me. A little later, Lorcan had slipped furtively out of the room, returning with the funny mole-platypus creature that had been the last to go back into the basement. It was a Niffler, he'd explained, and it loved anything shiny, but he reckoned we'd be okay as neither of us were wearing jewellery. He'd tipped the Niffler into my arms for a cuddle – it was terribly cute, wriggling and sniffing at my pockets – while Lysander told us how the Niffler had escaped, once, during a visit from a much-detested aunt (who was wearing an unfortunate number of bracelets and rings). Lorcan had mimed along hilariously until we were all crying with laughter.

"I know, all right," Juliet said. "They're pretty decent. Anyway, let's go down, they're probably up now..."

Our room was up in the attic, and as we descended the winding wooden staircases we heard a jumble of voices somewhere below.

Suddenly a door opened, and a cheery voice floated up to us.

"Top o' the morning to you! We're all in the kitchen, come have some breakfast."

It was one of the twins – Lorcan, I thought, whose voice was slightly rougher and deeper than his brother's.

I entered the kitchen behind Juliet, feeling a little shy all of a sudden. The whole family was in the kitchen, and they all looked round, smiling and nodding as we came in. The twins were jostling each other good-humouredly as they fried up eggs and bacon in enormous pans – Newt and Tina were settled comfortably at the table reading _The Daily Prophet_ together– Rolf, who'd given the address at Aunt Ada's funeral, was sawing a loaf of bread into thick slices – and the twins' mother, Luna, was dreamily making coffee. And then – a moment later, emerging from the pantry holding a milk jug and a butter dish – Hugo, whose eyes widened when he saw us.

There was a chorus of "good mornings!" and "sleep well, girls?", Luna and Rolf pulled out chairs for us to sit on and the twins tipped eggs and bacon onto both our plates. In the bustle, only Juliet and I noticed Hugo quickly set down the milk and butter and turn away, frowning.

I exchanged a guilty glance with Juliet, both of us remembering the last time we'd seen Hugo – abandoning him - unconscious, memory freshly wiped - on the floor of a stranger's café. The week that followed, held hostage with no idea where he was or why – must have been hell. Only the arrival of Juliet's letter, begging his forgiveness and promising to explain, would have given him any clue as to our involvement. Now he plopped into a chair – next to Rolf, a few seats away – and fiercely buttered a round of toast, without looking at either of us.

Newt and Tina had just started animatedly talking over an article in _The Daily Prophet_ and soon Rolf had been drawn into the discussion too and didn't notice anything odd. Fragments of conversation caught my ears ("blimey – but _how?_ " "I wouldn't go near 'em with a ten-foot broomstick" "some bungler at the Ministry, no doubt – meddling – idiotic –").

Only Lorcan and Lysander, joining us at the table after dumping the dirty pans in the sink, noticed the friction between Hugo and ourselves.

"Hey – what's eating you lot?" Lysander said quietly, poking Hugo, who took a large bite of toast and said nothing.

"It's lovely to see you, Hugo," Juliet said timidly.

Hugo chewed for what seemed like an age, and didn't answer.

"Ok –ay." Lorcan coughed. "Well, this is awkward. I was going to suggest having a game of Quidditch, but apparently Hugo just came over to eat our breakfast and not talk to any of us..."

Hugo swallowed his toast. "It's not _you_ ," he said, irritably. "I didn't know they would be here. Besides, you know I hate Quidditch."

"Yeah, but you don't _really_ ," Lysander said, crossing his legs laconically and leaning back in his chair. "No one can _hate_ Quidditch..."

"Juliet does, too. Actually, yeah, maybe we should play Quidditch. She can be Keeper."

"Oh, don't be like that, Hugo," said Juliet, pleadingly. "Look, I'll explain everything, I promise."

"Explain _what_?" Lorcan and Lysander said together, baffled. After another awkward silence, Juliet sawed up a piece of bacon, blushing, and Hugo rolled his eyes and reached for another piece of toast. Lysander looked at me.

"Er," I said, figuring a change of subject would be best. "So, Quidditch – is that the sport you play on brooms, right?"

"That's right," he replied. "Only the best sport in the world! You want to try?"

"You're serious? Can I really?" My heart leapt. Not that I was into sports particularly, normally – but _flying_! Actually flying on a magic broom – I'd been quietly envious of Juliet's flying lessons.

"Of course!" Lysander said, laughing and pushing his chair back. We both stood up, followed by Lorcan. After a moment, Juliet and Hugo rose too, reluctantly. "C'mon – our brooms are in the shed – you can borrow Mum's, she won't mind, will you, Mum?"

While the others had been debating the story in the paper, Luna had quietly picked up the page and was reading it almost absent-mindedly.

"What's that, darling? Goodness, this _is_ an interesting story, don't you think?"

"What? Oh –"

Luna handed Lysander the paper, and he skimmed the article quickly, frowning.

"It's almost certainly Nargles behind it...you _know_ they are little thieves! And I suspect an invasion of Wrackspurts. It would explain all the confusion with the child, after all."

"Oh, yeah...maybe...but it does sound like the intruders were using Polyjuice. So it might've just been them."

"No witch or wizard would steal from that family," Luna said, her eyes wide and earnest. "They're notorious for revenge."

"Yeah, but Mum, Nargles – really? They've never actually been documented..."

Luna frowned. "Lysander, really...plenty of species have yet to be documented...your father and I have found and recorded ten new species in as many years."

"I know, Mum, I'm just saying, in this case..."

Behind them, Rolf chipped in. "Well, Luna dear, you know I've never been entirely convinced about Nargles either, but they are just as good an explanation as the British Ministry of Magic being behind these disturbances! I mean, they've not even given a reason _why_. You can't just point the finger, without a shred of evidence..."

Throughout this conversation I'd stood back, politely, half-listening but not really understanding anything they were talking about until the word _Yazdani_ suddenly made me jump to attention. Beside me, I heard Juliet's sudden intake of breath and she looked at me, panic in her eyes.

"Besides, this nonsense about the baby vanishing and then reappearing – children can't _Apparate_ , for goodness' sake, and what's that got to do with _our_ Ministry? What a load of codswallop, I say."

"Anyway," Luna concluded, "Perhaps someone should suggest to them they check their houseplants. Nargles do love hiding in them. And they'll only go on pinching things, you know, just for fun..."

"Hey," Lorcan interrupted impatiently, punching Lysander on the arm. "Are we playing or not?"

"Definitely," Lysander answered, dropping the newspaper on the table. "Let's go!"

"Can I read the paper while you lot play Quidditch?" Juliet asked suddenly, in a slightly strangled voice. "Please?"

Lorcan laughed. "Aw, c'mon, it's a great game! You don't have to be Keeper, that was just Hugo being mean. You can Chase if you like. How's your shooting?"

"No, no, that's okay," Juliet said, firmly. "I'm hopeless, really. Jennifer can play. She's not flown before, so you'll need to show her the basics. I've missed all the news since I left Hogwarts, I want to catch up."

"Suit yourself," Lorcan said, shrugging. "C'mon, Jenny-wren. We'll have you swooping around like a bird in no time. Hugo, don't be a wet blanket, you'll have a game, won't you?"

Hugo shook his head. "Nah. You play. I'll stay with Juliet."

"Oh, made up, have you?"

Hugo scowled, and the twins laughed and threw their arms around my shoulders, steering me into the garden. Juliet followed with the newspaper, already anxiously scanning the article, and sat down on the garden bench. I glanced back at her, my heart beating painfully. Her face was carefully neutral but I knew it couldn't be good news.

I followed the twins to the broomshed at the back of the garden, looking back one last time at Juliet. Hugo was standing next to her, arms crossed, and she tugged him onto the bench beside her. I couldn't hear what she was saying, but she was tearfully shaking her head and gesticulating earnestly with her hands. She had a lot to explain, and Hugo had a right to be furious.

"Lovers' spat, or what?" Lysander pulled three brooms out of the cupboard, jerking his head in Juliet and Hugo's direction.

"Oh! No," I said, startled. "They're just friends."

"Dare I ask...?"

I coughed awkwardly. "Better not, to be honest. So, how do I ride this thing?"

Lysander dropped a broom at my feet. "Right, well, first you hold your hand out over it and say 'Up!' – confidently – and it'll jump into your hand. It might take a few goes."

"Er – okay." I did as he said, holding my hand out over the broom. "Up!"

Nothing happened. I tried again.

" _Up._ UP! _UP!_ "

But the broom lay on the ground, not budging one inch, just like any regular old broom from a store cupboard. After several minutes of fruitless coaxing, I stopped, irritated.

"Oh, Merlin. I've just realised something."

I looked up. Lorcan and Lysander were both looking stricken.

"I never even thought about this before," Lysander said. "But I reckon broomsticks – might only respond to – you know –"

"Magic," I finished dully, realising at last. I wasn't a witch. The broom would never fly for me. On top of my suppressed terror about the newspaper article, this was too much. Tears sprang to my eyes and Lorcan immediately moved forward to shake my shoulder roughly.

"Hey, don't you worry about that," he said. "You can fly, Jenny-wren. Come on the back of my broom, I'll take you for a ride!"

"Really?"

"Hop on!" he said, grinning, leaping onto his broomstick and motioning for me to sit behind him. "Hold tight – we're going up!"

Suddenly the broom beneath me was a living thing, vibrating with magic. I felt an electric thrill run through me from head to toe. We sprang into the air, the wind suddenly fierce in my face as we went up – up – up – I shrieked and clung to Lorcan for dear life. He sat on the broomstick with perfect ease, relaxed and confident.

"You okay back there?"

"Yes – I think so – yes – this is brilliant!" I gasped.

Lorcan leaned forward and we shot towards the house – I yelled as the roof loomed close – but he tilted upwards at the last second and swooped expertly in and out of the chimney-pots, agile as a bird.

"Oi, you, stop showing off!" Lysander yelled, below us. "Come and let Jen shoot some goals..."

At the end of the garden were three fir trees, and a large wobbly circle had been sketched out in blue paint on each of their trunks.

"Those are our goal hoops, said Lorcan, diving down to grab a large red ball from a case on the grass. "Can you hold on with one hand and throw with the other?"

"Er – maybe, if you don't fly too fast..."

And for the next forty minutes Lorcan patiently flew me gently past the row of hoops, while I aimed as carefully as I could and shot over and over at the goals. Lysander was a pretty nifty keeper, but I hit a few; although I rather suspected he might have let those in.

Flying on a magic broomstick was so fun it actually distracted me for a while. I feinted to the right then twisted and shot quickly at the left hoop – Lorcan cheered as Lysander dived the wrong way.

" _Ouch!_ "

There was a brown blur – a loud indignant screech - and a large owl flew straight into Lysander's path.

"Hey!"

A whirr of feathers – another angry squawk – and the tawny owl righted itself and swooped away, down to the bench where Juliet and Hugo sat. We all looked down in surprise as the owl landed in Hugo's lap.

Lorcan leaned forward and guided the broom swiftly down and round, shooting towards the grass with Lysander following. He pulled up expertly and I scrambled off the broom just as Hugo finished reading the letter which the owl had brought him. The twins dismounted, frowning. Hugo had gone a funny pasty white colour and was staring at the letter wordlessly.

"You all right, Hugo? That's your mum's owl, isn't it?"

"Uh – no – yeah," Hugo said, getting up quickly. "Look, I have to get home – Mum wants to see me. And, um – Juliet too, and Jennifer. She wants to see all of us, right away."

We both froze. Horror and fear poured over me. Hugo's mum – the Minister for Magic – wanted to see us! It could only be for one reason. Somehow, she'd worked out our involvement in the Yazdani affair. Juliet clenched the newspaper so hard in her fist that it tore, as she looked at me, eyes silently communicating the panic we both felt.

"But," said Lysander, bewildered, "Why on earth does she want to see _you_ two?"

None of us replied. Hugo's eyes were wide with anxiety and I could see him trembling. Guilt flooded me, on top of my fear. Poor, innocent Hugo – how could we have got him involved with this?

"All right then," Lysander said, looking a bit put out. "Don't tell us anything. It's not like we've been friends since we were born or anything likely that."

Hugo blinked, and shook his head. "Look, we'd better go," he said. "Sorry, guys. I'll explain what I can later, all right?"

"All right," the twins replied as one, as Hugo hurried us up the path that led up the side of the house and back to the road to the village. One of them called after us. " _Good luck..._ "

"We'll need it," Hugo said grimly under his breath as we made our way along the road, feeling like doomed prisoners walking to the gallows. "You know what's happened, right? A tent's been found. In some desert in Iran. _Our family tent_. Which, after stirring up masses of trouble, you left just lying around..."


	34. The Minister for Magic's Fury

Neither of us had ever met Hugo's mother before, and she was nothing – _nothing_ – like gentle, laid-back Hugo.

When the three of us entered her study, flushed and breathing heavily after our hurried walk from the Scamanders' house, it was to find the Minister for Magic pacing the room, several letters clenched in her hand. Six or seven owls jostled for attention on her desk, more letters still tied to their legs. She whipped round to face us the moment the door opened, eyes blazing, her long, wild hair seeming to crackle with electricity.

"Mum –" Hugo began faintly, but she cut him off, jabbing her finger at the hard-backed sofa along one wall.

"Sit!"

We backed into the sofa and sat. Her gaze swept over me and Jennifer, fiercely intelligent. I felt as though she had read me instantly inside and out, and swallowed.

"Juliet and Jennifer Belstone." It was a statement, not a question, but we nodded timidly, and then, as she glowered silently at the three of us, the awful guilt inside me bubbled over and I opened my mouth to explain. My voice came out in a croak.

"P-please, Minister, we didn't mean to leave the tent, it was an accident – just – things got out of control – we're so sorry –"

One of the owls clustered on the table interrupted me with a loud squawk. The Minister turned impatiently, yanked the letters from the legs of the birds, and shooed them unceremoniously out of the window, snapping it shut behind them.

"Out. Of. Control," she repeated, grinding out each word with painful emphasis. She took a deep breath and then said, in a quieter but infinitely more deadly voice, "And _what_ , may I ask, were you three doing in the Great Salt Desert – and, as it would appear, in the _household of the Yazdani family_?"

Hugo was trembling violently, clearly on the edge of tears. After an awful pause, Jennifer and I answered at the same time, our words tumbling over each other as we both tried to explain.

"Oh no, not Hugo, he wasn't there, he never went –"

"He just lent us the tent –"

"It wasn't his fault, honest, it was all our idea – well, my idea –"

"And we didn't mean to hurt anyone – we saved the baby –"

"But we shouldn't have gone, it was stupid –"

" _Really_ stupid, but no one was _actually_ hurt, honest –"

The Minister held up her hand and we both fell silent.

"So. My son did not travel to Iran with you."

She looked steadily at me, waiting for an answer. I shook my head.

"No, he—"

"But I am to understand that he did lend you my family's tent, which has now been discovered abandoned in the Great Salt Desert."

"Yes, but—"

"And this all happened a few weeks ago when Hugo informed my husband that he was going to visit you for a week?"

"Yes, it did, but –"

" Very well. Hugo – please leave the room. I will talk to you later."

Hugo rose, trembling. "Mum, I –"

" _Later_."

He gave us just one long look, of mingled sympathy and resignation, and left the room. When the door clicked shut the Minister turned back to me.

"Start at the beginning, please. Leave nothing out."

I swallowed, gathering my thoughts. The thought of lying never even entered my head. From the way the Minister's eyes intently searched my own, I had a funny feeling she would know if I didn't tell the truth.

"Well," I said. "From the beginning – I suppose it began two years ago. I got a letter, a Hogwarts letter, and Jennifer – Jennifer didn't. She's a Squib. And it seemed so awfully unfair..."

I talked and talked. The Minister stood, straight-backed, occasionally interrupting to clarify a point or check something, but otherwise let me more or less ramble through the whole story. From our first failed attempt to find magic at Stonehenge to Aunt Ada telling us the old story of Prince Bardiya and the Djinn princess; our hunt for a magic carpet (leaving out Ali Bashir's name, though I reckoned the Minister had a pretty shrewd idea); our eventual meeting with the Djinn in her underground cave and our visit in disguise to the Yazdani house. As I neared the end, the part where the Djinn brewed the potion and summoned baby Kaspar to her cave, telling us of her intentions to decimate the whole wizarding race, my courage nearly failed.

As my story unravelled, the Minister's expression had slowly changed from barely suppressed fury to frozen, wide-eyed horror. When I tailed off, she gestured impatiently at me.

"What happened next?"

"Well, Jennifer saved us – saved everyone. Before the Djinn could harm Kaspar, she used our wish – it was magically binding, we'd done our side of the deal, so the Djinn had to grant it."

The Minister let out an audible sigh and flicked Jennifer a glance of approval. "So. You – put things to rights? Entirely?"

"I – I think so," Jennifer said, humbly. "I hope so."

"Yeah, she did," I said forcibly. "She wished for everyone – witches, wizards, Muggles, and Squibs – to be safe from the Djinn forever. And then we were. Just like that. We saw Kaspar, the baby, disappear – he must have been sent back – and then we were safe back home. So – so the Djinn can never hurt anyone again! But – but the carpet and the tent stayed out there. We couldn't get them back. And – and that was what happened. And – and –" I swallowed, the tears I had been holding back the whole time finally spilling over, pouring down my cheeks "—I suppose now we'll go to Az- Azka – I mean - the wizard prison –" I ended with a huge, uncontrollable sob. I didn't have a tissue.

The Minister's expression had softened.

"We don't send under-age children to Azkaban, Miss Belstone." She tugged a handkerchief from her pocket and handed it to me. I buried my face in it, humiliated to be crying in front of her like a small child. Rubbing my eyes furiously, I tried to get a grip on myself.

"Please, Minister," I heard Jennifer say quietly next to me, with just the slightest tremor in her otherwise calm voice – I loved my brave sister so much just then – "Has the tent caused you a great deal of trouble? Do the Yazdanis know it is yours?"

I lowered the handkerchief. The Minister was looking gravely at Jennifer.

"Yes, Miss Belstone. It wasn't hard to identify. My books were in the sitting room and many contain my own bookplate. The Yazdanis had issued notices across the country about the break-in at their property and offered a large reward for information leading to the identification of the perpetrators. When the group of wizard nomads came across the tent, they immediately reported it. The tent of the _British Minister for Magic_ , left abandoned in their deserts at the same time as this upset! Now, and with good reason, they are demanding explanations. They want to know what business the British Ministry may have had in the Yazdani household. They are travelling to Britain _this morning_. They desire to meet with me. I have –" she glanced at her watch "—exactly one hour to decide what to tell them."

Jennifer looked ashen. "And what – what will you tell them?" she said faintly.

At this, the Minister briefly closed her eyes..

"I don't know," she admitted. "I will find an approach. There is no proof that the tent had anything to do with the break in. But leave that to me. Oh, for Merlin's sake!"

A rapping on the window had alerted her to another three owls perched on her windowsill, all butting the glass and flapping their wings.

"That," she said crisply, "will be another three letters from Ministry officials calling for my resignation."

She threw open the window, relieved the birds of their post, threw the letters onto a pile on her desk and, flapping her hands imperiously, whisked the owls out of the room.

I hadn't thought it was possible, but my heart sank even lower. A leaden weight seemed to settle in my stomach and stay there.

"Your resignation?" I whispered, horrified. "Oh, no –"

"Oh yes," the Minister said, almost to herself, glancing at the letters and starting to pace the room again. "Oh, they'll be delighted, some of them...they never wanted me to get the top job...just the excuse they've been looking for." She threw us a sharp look, as if suddenly remembering we were still listening. "This is my business from here, you two. It will take a great deal of smoothing over. You'd better leave, now. I'll be discussing your – your future – with the Headmistress. One or both of us will visit your parents in due course."

We got up slowly. I bit my lip, guessing with a horrible sinking feeling what she meant.

"Am I going to be expelled, Minister?"

The Minister looked at me levelly – but I saw, I thought, a flicker of sympathy in her eyes. She seemed smaller suddenly, and more tired.

"Later, Juliet," she said, using my first name for the first time as she ushered us both out. "You must go now. I have a great many things to do..."

The door closed surprisingly gently and Hugo emerged from behind a coat stand, eyes wide. From his expression I knew he'd listened to every word at the keyhole.

"M-Merlin, Juliet," he stuttered, leading us away. "You're really in for it now..."

"I know," I said, my chest tightening. "Oh, Hugo. This is a disaster."

A door suddenly burst open as we passed and the three of us, already twitchy and on edge, all jumped. Hugo's dad stuck his head out, his red hair rumpled and his face anxious.

"Hugo? Is your mother alone?"

"Yeah," said Hugo. "But she's seriously stressed. She might bite your head off."

"Never mind that," Hugo's dad replied, hurrying out of the room in the direction of the study without a backward glance. We heard him push the door open, and say anxiously, "Hermione, darling? Don't fret – it'll be all right –" The door clicked shut behind them.

"Let's go back to Lorcan and Lysander's, they'd rather we were out of the way," Hugo said, ushering us back to the front door and through the garden. Another two owls swooped past us, heading swiftly for the study window.

"Hugo! Wait up!"

The front door slammed again behind us and Rose, Hugo's sister, hurried up the garden path, giving me and Jennifer a quick nod of acknowledgement.

"Hugo, what on _earth_ is going on? Dad said our tent's been found in Iran and now the Ministry there reckon we've been snooping into their affairs? _Us?_ "

Rose's hair was as carrot-red as Hugo's, but long and bushy like her Mum's. Her face had the same fierce expression as she demanded an explanation.

"Uh," Hugo mumbled. "Well, yes, kind of. That is pretty much what's happened..."

"But _why? How?_ "

Hugo glanced at us both. Jennifer looked tired and drawn, and I felt just the same – all I wanted was to get away from here. Another owl dipped down from the sky, wings whistling as it passed.

"Later, Rose," Hugo said firmly. "Ask Dad. It's a really long story."

Rose opened her mouth to argue but Hugo just said quickly, "Or I'll tell you later on, okay? Just not right now. But, Rose? You know what?"

"What?"

Hugo's eyes followed a fourth owl, a large grey one, as it, too fluttered to the study window, rapping to be let in.

"I think this might be it for Mum's job. She's never had this many owls before, not even that time she tried to push through all those laws about House Elf rights."

Rose stared at him, wide-eyed. Oh Merlin. I felt even worse. It was _my_ fault her mum was probably going to get fired, from the top job in the whole country! Surely she'd be outraged.

But to my surprise, Rose, after whipping round to watch the steady stream of owls passing through the study window and back out again, looked at her brother with a tiny smile.

"Oh," she said. "Well – that wouldn't be the worst thing, would it?"

Hugo grinned cautiously back. "No," he said. "No, it definitely wouldn't. Well, we'll see. Talk to you later, Rose..."

Rose looked after us curiously, as we walked away.

Jennifer opened the gate and let us through to the road. "What did she mean, Hugo?"

Hugo shrugged, looking a little embarrassed. "Well – I know it's a _really_ good job and everything, but...we miss her. Me and Rose and Dad. She's never home, and when she is she's always stressed about stuff. You know the tent, our tent, we haven't even used it as a whole family for two years. Mum had to pull out of the last few holidays 'cause of last-minute work emergencies, so we just went with Dad. And we all hate the publicity. It's kind of wrong, I know, but Rose and I have been hoping for ages she'd decide to step down. And I reckon Dad has, too."

The leaden weight of guilt that had dropped in my stomach whilst in the study seemed to ease the tiniest bit. I hadn't expected that.

"So you'd all – you all be _pleased_?" I said."You're not just saying that?"

"Definitely, if it happens," Hugo said, sticking his hands in his pockets as he led us back around the hill towards Lorcan and Lysander's house. "Mum wouldn't, obviously. But Grandma always says she reckons Mum lost all perspective when she got the job. She says Mum has missed me and Rose grow up and she'll regret it when she realises. So – like Rose says, it wouldn't be the worst thing. Don't worry about that bit."

Jennifer reached over and squeezed Hugo's arm. "I'm glad to hear that," she said. "You're a brick, Hugo, you know that!"

Hugo's ears went red. "S'alright," he said, embarrassed. "Besides, you've got enough on your plate..."

We reached Lorcan and Lysander's house and Hugo started to lead us round the side to the back garden when Newt suddenly popped his head out of one of the downstairs windows.

"Hello, you three! Been for a walk? Fed up with Quidditch, were you?"

We all hesitated just a fraction too long and he looked confused. Of course – he would have no idea of the trouble we were all in.

"Yes," we blurted out, all together, and Newt chuckled.

"Oh you, kids. Up to no good, I'll be bound..."

He waved us off with a smile, and suddenly I remembered – last night, when he'd caught me arm and asked me to pop in to see him, alone. With everything that had happened, I'd completely forgotten. As Jennifer and Hugo headed towards the back garden, I turned back to the window. Newt still there, looking hopefully after us, and our eyes locked. He jerked his head questioningly and I nodded.

"Hey – you two –"

Jennifer and Hugo stopped and looked back, curiously.

"I'll join you in a bit, okay? I just need to see Newt about something."

"Oh," said Jennifer, surprised. "Want us to come?"

But I'd got the distinct impression Newt had wanted to talk to me, alone.

"Naw, it's all right," I said awkwardly. "I probably won't be long."

"All right," Hugo said. "We'll be in the garden."

Jennifer shot me a questioning glance as they turned away but, not knowing what Newt wanted to talk to me about, I just shrugged apologetically back before heading round to the front door.

Newt opened the door as I reached it, smiling his kindly smile. "Juliet," he said. "I'm glad you've come. Please, come through..."


	35. Newt's Big Secret

Newt ushered me into his study, a bright, open room. Paintings of strange wild creatures hung on the walls; they prowled and stretched and slept in their frames. One of the Kneazles was curled comfortably in an armchair. All the windows were open, letting in a refreshing breeze which fluttered the papers on his desk.

Newt tottered past me, leaning on his stick, and reached for an ancient-looking, battered old briefcase on his desk. He placed it carefully on the floor.

"I'm glad you've come, Juliet. I have something which I think you may find _very_ interesting!"

"What's in there?" I asked, curiously.

"Ah, now, it's best if I just show you. Easier than explaining! Quickly now, do follow me," he said, undoing the metal clasp.

I had no idea what he was talking about. "Follow you – where, sorry?"

Newt just chuckled and opened the briefcase, then, to my surprise, stepped straight into it and disappeared. I blinked. Some faint mutters and groans drifted upwards.

"Er – Newt? Are you okay?" I asked, alarmed, and quickly put my foot into the briefcase. After a short sinking feeling, I found myself gripping a rickety ladder in what seemed to be a darkened room.

"It's not far," Newt said below me, as my eyes adjusted to the darkness. "Come on down! Oh, I oughtn't to use this case anymore, really...the ladder is getting terribly difficult for my old bones...but it always _did_ work terribly well. The best Expansion Charm I ever did..."

I looked down and, seeing it was indeed only a short ladder, jumped down to the floor, and looked around in astonishment. We seemed to have climbed down into a dim, muddy cavern, mostly empty, with a few scattered buckets and sacks, all empty. Yet beyond the cavern, through short twisting tunnels in every direction, I glimpsed whole other landscapes – plains, jungles, rocky mountains. I turned to look at Newt, who had a pleased twinkle in his eye.

" _How..."_

"This way!" he said cheerfully, pottering determinedly towards one of the tunnels. "You're in my old travelling case, child – it's been with me and Tina all over the world."

I followed him through the tunnel, squinting ahead – all I could see was bright white light.

"We rescued magical creatures, you see," Newt called over his shoulder. "Injured, in zoos, dying from loss of habitat, oh, all sorts – and helped them get well, and released them back to the wild wherever we could...here we are."

"Wow," I said, lost for words, as I emerged from the tunnel and suddenly found myself walking on white sand, in bright sunlight. I blinked and shielded my eyes, looking around me in amazement. I could have been on a Pacific island. Palm trees dotted the sand dunes, and a blue, blue sea stretched out in front of me – but not quite as far as I could see. In every direction but the one we'd come, a grey mist rolled, obscuring the edges of the landscape.

"Is this _real_?" I asked incredulously, reaching down to scoop up some sand. I marvelled as the warm grains trickled through my fingers. For a moment, I felt sure I was dreaming.

Newt laughed. "More or less. Probably less. Some of it is real, the basic elements – the sand, the salt water – they've been magically expanded – but the light and the warmth are charms. All the other habitats are made the same way...I spent a full year working on this after I left Hogwarts, and it set me up for my entire career! Couldn't have done without!"

"So – are there still creatures living here?" I asked, looking around. It was eerily quiet. The only sound was the lapping of the surf.

"Hardly," Newt replied, looking wistfully around. I could almost see the memories flitting behind his eyes...and wondered what creatures he was fondly remembering. "We have a similar set-up under the living room – you saw my last few creatures go down there, I think? Those are the ones we couldn't reintroduce to the wild, for various reasons...Rolf and Luna go on expeditions every five years or so, and when they do they borrow this briefcase, so I had to empty it. But for now at least, it's empty. Well, nearly empty. Now, could you perhaps give me a hand with this boat?"

A small rowboat lay on the sand nearby, and Newt tugged with difficulty on the rope, pulling it a little closer to the shoreline. "Er – where are we going?" I asked, as I took the rope and hauled the boat it to the edge of the water. "How big is this ocean?"

Newt's eyes crinkled in his familiar smile. "Smaller than it looks, dear child. Now, you'd best take off your shoes – no need to get them all wet – hmmm, now, do you think you could push the boat into the water with me in it, and then hop in after me?"

"I – yes, I expect so," I said, after a second's hesitation. I might as well trust the old wizard – he must know what he was doing. Telling myself this, I tugged off my shoes and rolled up my jeans. Newt climbed stiffly into the boat, and I leaned against it, pushing hard, until it slid into the warm water. Quickly, I jumped into the boat, and Newt pushed us away from the beach with a rickety old oar.

He started rowing with difficulty, breathing heavily, and, alarmed, I took the oars from him. "I can row – you just tell me where to go."

"Bless you, child," Newt said gratefully. "It gets harder every time. Just a little way out – it gets deeper rather suddenly."

I dipped the oars into the water and pulled. The boat was light and responsive, and we bobbed quickly out to sea, rocking gently. The water was crystal clear – I could see the white sand and rocks far below, and fronds of seaweed waving. The air smelled deliciously of salt, the tropical sun warmed my skin, and a faint, delicious breeze tickled my cheeks. Water from my erratic rowing splashed my fingers. It was utterly surreal. The upper world seemed miles away.

But the grey mist at the edge of the landscape was already a little closer, and I saw Newt was right – this strange landscape was smaller than it looked, and must be more than half illusion...

Newt was looking eagerly over the edge of the boat. "Nearly there," he said. "Stop when you see the coral below us."

I rowed a little further, and sure enough, way below, I began to see a vast coral structure – pure white, like a fantastic castle, with turrets and towers. I stopped rowing and shipped the oars.

"All dead, I'm afraid..." Newt said, sadly, gazing downwards. "Long dead, in fact."

"The coral?"

"Yes, I'm afraid so. See how white it is. It used to – oh! – almost _breathe_ with colour. But it was sucked dry...by _these_ little beauties! Just look!"

He pointed into the water, his face suddenly lit up with pure joy. I looked down and gasped.

A shoal of fish had suddenly swum into view, circling the boat, some looking up with mouths agape. There must have been several hundred...each about the size of my hand, they were without a doubt the most beautiful fish I had ever seen: their scales shimmered with a thousand ever-changing colours, their fins were an opalescent silver, and their eyes – I shivered. They weren't the cold, dead eyes of a trout or a salmon. They were intelligent, and alive.

"What _are_ they?" I asked, unable to take my eyes off them.

Newt smiled.

"Those, my dear, are some of the rarest fish in the world..."

"And they're magic? Where did you get them? What do they _do_?"

"Ah, well, I got the first two in Papua New Guinea. They are coral guardians," Newt said. "In the wild, at least. They have what is known as a symbiotic relationship. They live in the coral, which is itself magic, of course –"

"Coral's magic?" I said, surprised. "Is it really?"

Newt chuckled. "Yes, indeed. Ground coral can be used in potions, although it's never gained great popularity as an ingredient in Europe. It has various useful properties. And _these_ fish – they have a rather unusual diet. They don't eat the coral itself. Can you guess?"

I shook my head, wondering what he was getting at.

"They feed off its magic," Newt said softly, looking lovingly at the fish. "They nibble magic from the coral – the older magic – and in return, that keeps the coral healthy. Like – well, like pruning old leaves to allow younger leaves to grow. And when the coral is attacked, they ward off the attackers. Let me show you...this coral is dead now, but the instinct to protect it will still be very much active."

He pulled a small rock out of his pocket and dropped it into the water. It toppled swiftly down to the great white coral castle below us. Just before it landed on one of the bleached coral turrets, the nearest fish flicked round. A jet of white light shot from the fish, directly towards the falling stone –and a second later, the stone shattered into a mist of harmless sand which trickled, glinting, down to the bottom.

"That's pretty cool," I said, watching with admiration.

"Not something you see every day – a Reductor Curse performed by a fish!" Newt said, smiling. "These fish are the only known creatures aside from witches and wizards who actually _perform_ magic, by means of spells and charms similar to our own. The number of wizard-like spells I have recorded them doing over the years, for different purposes, is quite astonishing. But you must be wondering why on earth I have dragged all the way over here, to look at some interesting fish?"

I laughed. "Well – yeah. I did wonder."

"Let me start at the beginning," Newt said, settling back in the rowboat. "Forty years ago – on my very last expedition - I was travelling alone in Papua New Guinea, as Tina was occupied at home. I was, in fact, exploring a small island just off Papua New Guinea's coast in search of Mackled Malaclaws, when to my surprise – as I had thought the place uninhabited – I stumbled across a native wizarding tribe. It appeared they had been cut off from the rest of the magical world for some time...They were not, luckily, hostile – but fascinated by me and my ways, which were incredibly strange to them. Our magic was very different. I was equally interested to find out about them, and hear what they could tell me about any magical creatures on the island... I stayed with them for a few weeks, and they told me all about their island – a fascinating place, rich in wildlife and equally rich in folklore."

I was completely riveted; Newt looked dreamy and absent, lost in the past.

"They told stories...some true, others pure fiction... And one such story was about a kind of magical fish which had once lived in the coral reefs offshore...a fish they called "Timichugu" which fed on magic, a fish which had not been seen for generations. "Timichugu", roughly translated, meant s _ea-wizard_. Of course my interest was piqued. I borrowed a fishing boat, and travelled out to the coral reefs day after day. Again and again I dived, and searched – oh, it seemed like miles of reefs! – but for weeks, I had no luck. And then, at last – just as I was beginning to feel sure that the Timichugu were either extinct, or fictional, I came across a small shoal. I saw them in action, saw them performing spells – I couldn't believe my eyes! What wonderful creatures! I decided then to take two back home with me, male and female, along with a large amount of coral for them to live on. I intended not only to study them, but to breed a large shoal in a safe environment – more, I hoped, than would breed naturally in the wild where clearly they were struggling."

"Well, you've done very well," I said, looking at the huge shoal below me. "You've bred loads!"

"Quite so," Newt said, smiling. "But it has taken many, many years. I started out with only my two fish, Finley and Marissa...I studied their and their children's breeding patterns over many years, long after I was retired from my expeditions, and found that, unlike most fish, who produce many young, the Timichugu would produce just one or two eggs, which they nursed most tenderly, each year. This unusual habit may have been one of the reasons the species became so very rare..."

"So, it took forty years for this shoal to grow?" I asked, enormously impressed by Newt's dedication. "But – I don't get it –" I was growing more and more bewildered – "why are you showing them to _me_?"

"Well, I am coming to that," Newt said, "But first of all I need to let you into a little secret. Have you not wondered how the shoal is so healthy – so brimful of magic – when their food supply of coral is utterly dead? It died very suddenly – just last month – taking me completely by surprise. Coral regenerates its magic, as I've explained – but I have found out, now, that a reef of this size can't sustain so many hundreds of these little beauties. They are supposed to simply trim back the old magic, to make way for the new, but as the shoal grew and grew, and fought for food, they must have been forced to feed on deeper, younger magic. The coral's vital life-blood. And then, when I checked them last month, it was to find – to my absolute horror – the whole reef quite suddenly drained and dead, and the Timichugu already beginning to starve. Their colours were dull and faded, they were thin and insubstantial-looking – and from the reduced numbers I could see some must have already succumbed to hunger. I knew I had to get them to a food source as soon as possible."

I looked at the glimmering, colourful shoal of fish circling around and over the dead white coral. They were obviously thriving. "So - what did you do?"

"Well," Newt said. "Of course, I had always intended, when the shoal was large enough and I deemed my breeding programme successful, to tell dear Rolf and Luna about my little project and ask them to help release them back into the wild... to a big, living coral reef. But the fish were dying _now_ _–_ would there be time to find a suitably large, healthy coral reef and get them back? Or would all my beauties be lost? If the fish needed magic – well! after all, I had _plenty_ of magic of my own. I wondered if it might give them – oh, just the boost they needed."

My mouth fell open. Shocked, I flinched back automatically from the fish below me. Suddenly they seemed less beautiful, more sinister, and their gaping, questing mouths horrified me. "You – you didn't!"

"I did. I was already too old and too useless, to go off on the expeditions I loved, and so, I plunged my hand into the water, wiggling my fingers until one of the fish came up from the deep to investigate – and it could certainly smell or sense the magic, because it began to suckle..."

I made a face. "Did it _hurt_?"

"Not a bit," said Newt, laughing. "They aren't taking anything physical, so I didn't feel a thing. But I made a mistake. It turned out, the fish could feed from a living, breathing being like myself _far_ more easily than from the rock-hard coral – rather like drinking a – a delicious strawberry milkshake for breakfast instead of chewing its way through a stack of dry toast! The single Timichugu that was feeding on my magic grew rapidly far bigger than these you see now, larger than _me_ in fact, and its colours flashed like – oh, like a thousand rainbows. Indescribable. Far more beautiful than these little ones are, now, even. I was so fascinated, I didn't pull my hand away. And before I knew it, that one hungry little fish had drained every last bit of my powers."

"No!"

"I was a little shocked, I admit, when I realised. I believe it could have taken much more – if the source were available. Who knows how large it would have become! And what about the other fish, still thin and hungry below me! But it was all right in the end... Have you ever tickled a trout, Juliet?"

"Um, no...what would I do that for?"

"Trout like to be tickled," said Newt calmly. "They relax and enjoy it and you can do what you like with them then. It is the same with the Timichugu. I tried a few methods of getting my magic back off the huge fish who had suckled it all, but none of them worked. Then, thinking of trout, I dived into the water and tried gently stroking and tickling the fish's belly. It worked like a charm. It relaxed, went sleepy...and the magic began to trickle out of it, and into the nearest living source – me. I took back most of my magic, until the greedy little Timichugu had shrunk back to the size you see here – its normal size, in the wild! And then using the same method, but being careful not to let any of them overeat – I distributed a little magic to every fish in the shoal..."

This was finally beginning to make sense. Newt's inability to cast the spell he intended at Aunt Ada's funeral...and perhaps, also, his frailness, in comparison to his wife, Tina. Witches and wizards lived longer than Muggles, but if he had drained his own resources...I winced.

"And now you haven't much magic left, have you?"

"Barely a drop," Newt said cheerfully. "But I was glad to put what I had to good use. The shoal was saved. I told my family that night about my secret project and what I had done, and Rolf and Luna have identified a suitable reef to take them to. They have made arrangements to go next week...they weren't pleased with me, though. Tina in particular – oh! She was furious... I should have told them about the Timichugu before. But when I knew I was retiring – I couldn't _bear_ the thought of doing nothing. It was my little secret project – my hobby – my beauties – and I'm _glad_ I kept them!"

He finished vehemently, looking down below at his precious shoal with fierce pride and love. But I couldn't look at them. I hugged my knees, staring at my feet in the bottom of the boat, feeling a terrible sadness creep over me. I knew, at last, why he had brought me all the way down here.

Newt's voice broke into my thoughts as if from a great distance. "And now, Juliet. To finally answer your question – why am I showing them to _you_?"

"I've guessed," I said, heavily. "Oh, Newt. You're giving me a chance to help Jennifer, aren't you? Because I told you wanted to make Jennifer a witch? If – if I let a fish drink half of _my_ magic, Jennifer could do your tickling method and it would go back into _her?_ Then we'd both be witches – half as powerful, but witches at least. That's what you think?"

"I don't know for certain that it _would_ go into her, but I figured you might like to try!" Newt said, eyes shining. He was quite obviously delighted to think he might have solved our problem. "After all, if it doesn't, you can take it back yourself, and no harm done!"

I swallowed and looked up at the bright blue cloudless sky. This wasn't real. This place – this beautiful white-sand beach, and the palm trees, and the warm tropical sea – I was sitting in a rickety rowboat in a place stitched together with illusions... reality, cold hard reality, as I knew, was somewhere above my head. Reality was with the Minister for Magic in her study, waiting to meet with furious members of the Yazdani household. Reality was that I was probably going to get expelled from Hogwarts. Reality was that Hugo and Jennifer were also both in terrible trouble because of _my_ stupid, dangerous plan, and also that they were probably by now worried and wondering where on earth Newt and I had got to. The weirdness of this whole world-within-a-briefcase had for a short time pushed all of that to the back of my mind, but now it all came rushing back.

"Oh, Newt," I said again, looking back at him with tears in my eyes as the little boat bobbed on his beautiful, silent sea. "You are the kindest, loveliest person, you really are. But – but – I really don't think I _can_."

I picked up the oars and began, miserably, to row back to shore, and as I did so, I told Newt – dear, affectionate, crestfallen Newt – what we had done...


	36. Consequences

Juliet

"Juliet, where on _earth_ have you been!" Jennifer yelled, running up to me as I hurried to the Scamanders' back garden. Behind her I saw Hugo and the twins jump to their feet and head towards me also. "We looked all over the house for you when you didn't come back – I've been going out of my _mind_ thinking you'd taken off somewhere! We only just came back out here, 'cause Hugo said if you did come back you wouldn't know where _we_ were..."

"Calm down," I said, alarmed. "Sorry, I didn't know it would take that long. I was in Newt's study all the time..."

"No, you weren't," Jennifer said, irritated. "That was the first place we looked. _Anyway_ , look, just forget it, we've had a summons."

"A summons? Where?"

"Back to Mum's office," Hugo said, as he and the twins reached us.

"Oh, Merlin," I groaned. "Already? Now?" I couldn't look at him, or Lorcan or Lysander.

Hugo nodded. "She's called a meeting with your parents and, um, McGonagall and Vector."

"Hugo and Jennifer told us everything," Lysander said, gravely. "Look, whatever happens – I mean, I – I don't know how things are going to work out, but – well –" He broke off, looking horribly awkward.

"What he's trying to say is that you'll both always be welcome here," Lorcan said gently. _Even if you're expelled_ , didn't need to be said. I looked up at them gratefully, as Jennifer tugged my arm.

"We've got to go," she said. "We're late already."

"Use our Floo, it'll be quicker," Lorcan said quickly. "Come with me..."

He strode off toward the house with long, easy strides and we jogged after him. The house was full of noises – I could hear clattering and footsteps and voices upstairs and in various rooms - but Lorcan quickly led us into an empty sitting room where a low fire was burning and picked up a dish of glittering green powder from the mantelpiece.

"Have you used it before?"

"Yes, once," I said, taking a pinch.

"Great. Say 'Hermione Granger's study' and you'll be there in two ticks..."

The flames roared upwards, green and ferocious. I stepped quickly into the fire and Jennifer pressed forwards, ready to follow me. She and Lorcan looked at each other for one long moment, just as I yelled, ""Hermione Granger's study!"

I saw a frisson of understanding pass between them, but had no time to wonder what it meant as I span into the whooshing confusion of the Floo Tunnels...

Moments later, I spilled out onto the carpet in the Minister's office, which we'd left just hours before. The animated discussion going on came to an abrupt halt.

" _JULIET_!"

I looked up, with a horrible sinking feeling. It was Dad. He strode forwards and yanked me to my feet. Behind him, Mum sat, frozen, on the hard-backed sofa, obviously still in shock. I met her anguished gaze for just a moment – when Jennifer tumbled out onto the carpet behind me.

"JENNIFER!"

Dad pulled my sister to her feet, too, and shook us both, hard. I was shocked – and a little frightened. Dad had _never_ shaken us before.

"What on _earth_ ," he said, letting us go suddenly – we both backed away, towards Mum – "have you been up to?"

"Well, we –"

"That was a rhetorical question!" Dad sputtered. "I – we – you –" I had never seen him incoherent with rage before. "The Minister for Magic has explained everything!" he got out eventually.

The Minister, who had been standing stiffly by the window all this time, came forwards.

"I brought your parents here and filled them in your - _activities_ – while we were waiting for you," she said, sharply. "Sit."

With an acute sense of déjà vu, Jennifer and I sat on the hard-back sofa – this time, next to Mum, who neither of us dared look directly in the eye.

Dad was still ranting.

" _..._ the _number_ of lies you told your mother and me, how could you DARE to do such a thing, I thought we'd brought you up better than this, _completely_ irresponsible _..._ Minister, if we had known – we would never have allowed – _"_

"What's done is done," the Minister said curtly, cutting him off. "Now, I have asked Juliet's Headmistress and Head of House to join us in" – she checked her watch – "fifteen minutes' time."

Beside me, I felt Juliet tremble and I took her hand and squeezed it gently.

"Oh dear," Mum said, faintly. "I – I suppose Juliet will be – I mean, she won't be allowed to stay on at Hogwarts, after this, will she?"

"We'll come to that in time," the Minister replied. "For now, I'd like to brief you on the current situation. I have just returned from my meeting with the heads of the Yazdani family; you should be relieved to hear that this went as well as could be hoped."

I looked up, catching my breath. Beside me I felt Jennifer sit up a little straighter.

The Minister continued. "I assured the Yazdanis that I and the British Ministry for Magic had nothing whatsoever to do with the break in. I maintained that the tent had been taken without my or my husband's knowledge or consent, and that its appearance overseas had nothing to do with me, or, again, the British Ministry. All these facts were, essentially, true."

"But," Jennifer said, incredulously. "Surely they didn't just – accept that?"

"Of course not," the Minister replied. "Not at first. I then, however, took a drop of Veritaserum in front of them as a demonstration of my goodwill and openness, and then I repeated each essential fact."

"Veritaserum?" Dad asked.

"Truth potion," the Minister said. "An exceptionally powerful one. It was a risk, I admit. Further questioning could have forced me to reveal what I had since discovered about the girls' exploits."

Mum gave a little moan and Dad swallowed visibly, but the Minister continued calmly.

"Had that been the case, I had already instructed my husband and certain of our friends to prepare to take steps to immediately protect your daughters and yourselves. However, Veritaserum is _very_ rarely used in international political discussions, and I believe this took them – a family widely known for manipulation and deceit – by surprise. The _basic_ facts, which I proved to be incontestably true, were that my tent had been taken; I had no knowledge of this until the Yazdanis questioned me; and that I, my husband, and my Ministry were not involved in any undercover operation in their household. They tested the Veritaserum on the adviser who had accompanied them, found it to be genuine, and I brought the meeting to a close as haughtily as I could. They withdrew with – admittedly grudging – apologies, to continue their investigations elsewhere."

The Minister allowed herself to look the tiniest bit smug.

"Impressive," Dad said at last. "Well – we can't thank you enough..."

"Yeah," I said hoarsely, feeling the most enormous relief. "That's – amazing." Beside me, Jennifer nodded vigorously.

"It really is," she added softly. "Thank you so much, Minister."

"It's my job," the Minister replied, a little stiffly. "At least – until this evening."

"Oh, no!" I exclaimed, horrified. "I'd hoped – I mean, seeing as you sorted this out – they're not making you resign, are they? All those people at the Ministry?"

"Minister," Dad said, stricken. "Surely you won't lose your job over this?"

"Yes," the Minister replied steadily, and Dad groaned. "And no. There's no need to concern yourselves too much. I have my enemies and doubters within my Ministry, naturally, and had the meeting gone badly, no doubt I would have had little choice in the matter. However, now that the Yazdanis have accepted my explanation, and withdrawn their threat to our government, my Ministry cannot _make_ me step down."

Her gaze swept over me and Jennifer, and she frowned.

"However. I will be tendering my resignation tonight nonetheless."

"Oh, Minister," Mum said, after a dismayed silence. "Why ever is that?"

The Minister hesitated for a moment before replying, and – to my surprise – I saw two faint pink spots appear on her cheeks.

"For personal reasons," she said at last, turning on her heel and walking to the window with a frown. "I've done this job – well, I believe – for over four years. But, well...this has been a long time coming. Finding out that my Hugo was involved – even only a little – in this whole mess, without me knowing..." Her voice grew distant and thoughtful. "My son knew he could borrow the tent and disappear on a pretend visit for a week and I wouldn't notice a thing. It made me realise quite how much I'd lost touch...perhaps I have succeeded as a Minister, but I have failed miserably in other respects...oh." She shook herself visibly and turning back to us. "You don't need to hear all this."

"Not at all," Dad said firmly. "Fiona and I also should have realised something was going on..."

He glared at us and we both quailed, but the next moment green flames leapt high in the fireplace for a second time.

"Ah," said the Minister. "They are here..."

Moments later, Professor McGonagall stepped out of the fireplace, thin-lipped and clearly furious, and then right after her, Professor Vector, with a very serious expression on her usually serene and kindly face.

"My dear Juliet," Vector said softly and sadly to me, and McGonagall stepped forward, looking absolutely livid.

" _Miss_ _Belstone_ –" she began, clearly ready to tear me verbally to pieces, and I quailed; but then, to my surprise, the Minister held up her hand to silence her.

"With respect, Professor," she said calmly but firmly. "Both girls have already been seriously reprimanded, both by myself and their parents. I think they fully understand the seriousness of the situation, and deeply regret their actions, isn't that right, girls?"

We both nodded hastily.

"Absolutely –"

"Oh, yes –"

McGonagall pursed her lips together tightly, but acknowledged the Minister's higher authority with a curt nod.

"So," the Minister continued heavily, "now we must discuss Juliet's future..."

"We won't keep you in suspense any longer," Vector said softly, looking at me. With her sad, wise eyes and silvery hair she reminded more than ever of a kindly old owl. I remembered how close friends she had been with Aunt Ada – and thought, then, how disappointed Aunt Ada would have been if she could see us both now. As though from a great distance, I heard her say, "I'm afraid you won't be allowed to continue your studies at Hogwarts, Juliet."

This was hardly a surprise, but still my insides clenched as the words hit me. Numbly, I nodded, as Mum covered her face with her hands. I didn't dare look at Dad.

"The termination of a Hogwarts education is usually a last resort, especially when the student in question is as magically adept as Miss Belstone," McGonagall said. "But what Juliet has done this summer goes far beyond the boundaries of disrespecting school rules! Although, it appears, the consequences of her foolish actions have been mitigated, I cannot allow her to set such an example of flagrant disregard for authority, to our other pupils."

There was a pregnant pause.

"That's perfectly understandable," Dad said, heavily. "We're just so sorry, that Juliet chose to waste such a golden opportunity."

A painful lump had been growing in my chest as McGonagall talked. I had hardly realised before how much I had grown to love Hogwarts. Oh, I had hated it at first – but when I allowed myself to believe that Jennifer would surely soon be joining me there, I'd let my defences down. I'd made friends. I'd let the grand old castle steal a place in my heart. Images flashed at random through my mind... The library crammed with incredible books. My little blue-curtained bed in airy Ravenclaw tower. Marion, and Susie, and the other students I was just beginning to be friendly with. The Charms classroom, with warm afternoon light slanting across the old stone floor...strolling with Hugo by the lake and throwing crumpets to the Giant Squid... I took a deep, shuddering breath and Jennifer sympathetically rested her hand on my arm.

"Of course," McGonagall continued, "Juliet needs to continue her magical education, for the same reason that I explained to you all two years ago. There was a time when we would have snapped her wand in half and sent her straight home. But there were a few nasty incidents over the last century when expelled pupils struggled to contain or appropriately channel their magical powers, and laws were accordingly changed. Juliet _must_ receive an education until she comes of age at seventeen."

Seventeen. I swallowed. What did they have in store for me, for those four long years?

"You must know, Mr and Mrs Belstone," Vector said in her clear, quiet voice, "that extra-curricular activities aside, Juliet has been an excellent pupil. Hard-working, capable, spending most of her time in the library – even, I understand, tutoring Hugo Weasley-Granger in Charms."

"Yes," said the Minister drily. "Hugo struggles in Charms. And I appreciate what your daughter has done for him. We also recognise that she _was_ put in an unusual and difficult situation when she was separated from her twin sister, and that she clearly regrets her actions."

Professor McGonagall stepped forward, looking directly at me. "We both believe that to condemn you to an institution for delinquent young witches and wizards would be both unnecessary and cruel; although we will be keeping a close eye on you in future, Miss Belstone. But we've put in a good word for you to Selburton Spell School, and we have not told them the real reason for your needing to leave Hogwarts – else I doubt they would have offered you the place."

"Selburton?" I croaked, looking up at her, then over to Vector and McGonagall. "Where's that? What's it like?"

"It is in Lincolnshire," Vector said gently. "I won't lie: it is nothing like Hogwarts. But you can adequately finish your schooling there. It is by far the best remaining option."

 _The best of a bad bunch_. She didn't need to say it, we could all see it was obvious. It must be awful. I felt utterly miserable, even though I knew it was more than I deserved.

"Up till now, you've been almost a model student, Juliet," Vector said to me. "We'll be keeping an eye on you even if you don't know it. Don't despair. Work hard at Selburton and you can still have a bright future."

The kindness and evident pity in Vector's voice finished me off. Unable to hold them back any longer, my eyes filled up with tears.

"Thank you," I mumbled, looking at the floor. A tear splashed onto the carpet. The room felt achingly warm. Suddenly, I was desperate to get out of there. "Can – can I go to the bathroom?" I asked, standing up.

"Of course," the Minister said gently, and I stumbled out of the room, dashing my sleeve across my eyes.

I didn't need the bathroom – I just wanted some privacy – and, after the stifling atmosphere of the study, some air. I ran out of the back door into the garden and found a sheltered corner between some flowering shrubs. I threw myself onto the grass, hugging my knees tight as I sobbed and sobbed.

So it had come to this. All my brilliant plans, the realisation of my fantastic day-dreams. I had been so sure that after this summer, Jennifer would be journeying back to Hogwarts with me for the start of her first year and my third at Hogwarts; joining me on the Hogwarts Express, being Sorted (into Ravenclaw, of course), having her first, thrilling introductions to Charms and Potions and Transfiguration...

But not only was Jen not joining me, I'd thrown away my place at Hogwarts too. She'd go back to Greenhill Academy and I'd be packed off to some awful dive of a school in bleakest Lincolnshire. Alone. We would _never_ bridge this divide...

Or – would we? A frisson of shock suddenly shot through me and I sat bolt upright. I let the idea sink slowly through me, testing it for flaws. My breath became short and shallow. Yes. There _was_ a way. A way to resolve this whole, horrible, terrible mess. Oh, it wasn't perfect – I'd learnt by now that no solution was ever perfect. But, Merlin help me, it might work.

Yes. It would work.

Slowly, I got to my feet, and walked, feeling as though I was in a dream; away from the house, away from the Minister, and my teachers, and my family. It wouldn't take long, if no one stopped me. I'd better be swift. Glancing back, I began to run; and my new resolve curled deep within me, hard and unyielding, like steel.


	37. The Final Choice

Jennifer

"Well, that's that," the Minister sighed, as Juliet's footsteps faded away and we heard the front door distantly open and close. A moment later I saw my sister stumble past the window: she had run outside to cry, alone, in the garden, and my heart ached for her.

"So, Jennifer," the Minister said suddenly, making me jump. None of them had paid me much attention previously, and now all at once all eyes were on me. I swallowed. Juliet had been dealt with; now, I was certain that they were going to punish me, too.

It took me by surprise when all Vector said was, "What are your plans for the future, dear?"

Oh - it seemed as I was not a Hogwarts student, or even a witch, they were leaving my punishment up to my parents. Relieved, I relaxed.

"Well, I – I'd really like to be a scientist," I said cautiously. "And – well – there is one area I'd like to specialise in, if I can, on the side."

My heart thumped. The idea had been brewing in me privately for a while, and I wasn't sure if it was going to be possible or even permitted. But this was perhaps the only chance I'd get to ask.

"What's that, then?" Vector asked, as the Minister began to shuffle papers on her desk and McGonagall gathered up her cloak, ready to leave. I glanced at them, a little humiliated – I was only a Squib, and they weren't meaning to be rude, but I guess they just weren't that interested in me.

"Well," I said, raising my voice a little. "I would like to specialise in studying magic."

McGonagall nearly dropped her cloak, and the Minister looked up from her desk in surprise. I had their full attention now. Vector's eyes were twinkling as she studied me.

"Most interesting," she said. "Do go on."

Encouraged, I carried on. "I'm just very curious," I said, "about the _chemistry_ of magic. If there is such a thing. Everything else in the world is rational, you know. However strange, however unnatural something might appear, it can always be explained by, well, atoms and cells and radiation and – oh – so many different things. Magic – well, I bet it's not like that, but still, I'd like to find out more about it. My findings would be only for the wizarding world to know, of course," I added hastily, remembering how secretive they all were.

There was a long silence. The Minister was looking at me with an intently interested expression.

"I have a feeling," Vector said, at last, with a little laugh, "that what you two girls got up to this summer may have been Juliet's idea, not yours, am I right?"

Not wanting to give Juliet away, I didn't answer this, but I felt myself blush. Mum and Dad exchanged a wordless glance, eyebrows raised.

"Well, Jennifer," the Minister said, "that is extremely interesting. You wouldn't know it, but I come from a Muggle family myself. And I have long felt that the divide between Muggles and wizards could be encouraged, in more than a few instances, to be bridged. I myself would be most interested in the outcome of such research, if you choose to pursue it. Magic and science; now, I can say with confidence that this is not a widely-researched area of academia."

"It certainly isn't," McGonagall said. "And that is, perhaps, our loss. Well, Miss Belstone, it was good to have this little chat. Perhaps we'll meet again. Oh – I almost forgot – Mr and Mrs Belstone...I have the particulars for Selburton School here for you to read."

She held an official-looking envelope out to Dad, who hesitated a moment before taking it.

"Thank you, Headmistress," he said, at last. "Let's hope our errant daughter will make the best of her place here." He ran his finger under the envelope flap and pulled out a thin, greyish programme. On the front was a picture of a bleak granite building set in a featureless, flat brown landscape – reminding me instantly of a converted hospital – or a prison.

"If you have any questions about the school," McGonagall said, a little reluctantly, as all three of us winced and Dad opened the programme wordlessly. "Just ask..."

They had, as it turned out, lots of questions. How to get there, how the lessons differed from Hogwarts, how many young students there were...

The whole discussion depressed me, and I stopped listening after a while. I wandered over to the Minister's bookshelves and read the titles curiously. The Minister noticed me looking, and with a small smile, pulled one or two books out for me to have a look at. I leafed through them, and for a little while got quite engrossed in an interesting chapter about ancient runes. The conversation washed over me...

Until, some time later, a little jolt of electricity seemed to run through me, and I looked up with a jump. I'd realised, suddenly, that I'd forgotten all about my sister...and that something didn't feel right at all.

"Hey – where's Juliet?" I said, loudly. Looking out of the window into the Minister's garden, I realised Juliet was nowhere to be seen. I closed my eyes. The connection between me and Juliet ran so deep; I nearly always knew, somehow, when my identical twin sister was close by.

Everyone had stopped talking and was looking over at me, surprised.

"Oh, no..." I moaned, frantically opening the window and leaning out to peer left and right. "She's taken off somewhere! I know she has - I can tell!"

Behind me, I heard Dad give a tiny, almost inaudible groan, and the Headmistress muttered, "For Merlin's sake..."

The Minister came briskly to my side, her wand out. I looked at it in surprise and alarm. "You're not going to hurt her, are you?" I blurted.

"Don't be silly, of course not! Please step back, Jennifer..."

She muttered something, sweeping her wand from left to right at the same time, and I gasped as the powerful spell rippled through the air, the bushes and trees in the garden shivering as it passed through them.

A long moment passed. Then: "There's no one within the boundaries of this property," the Minister said, heavily. "We'd better look for her."

"I'm so sorry," Mum said, anguished. "Oh, Juliet – she must be running away! But – there's no need – we can look for her ourselves, Minister..."

"Absolutely," Dad said emphatically. "We'll contact the Muggle police if necessary...don't let our daughter put you to more trouble."

But the three witches were already throwing on cloaks and heading through the door. Dad swore under his breath at Juliet and marched after them. Mum grabbed my hand and we followed.

"Jennifer," she said urgently, once we were outside. "Do you have _any_ idea where your sister would have gone?"

I quailed as everyone looked at me.

"I – I – no, I'm sorry, I really don't know!"

For the first time in my life I had absolutely no idea where my sister was or what she was up to, and it terrified me. Surely – surely she wouldn't have run away?

"We'll check the Muggle bus stops, and ask if anyone's seen her," Dad said, pulling Mum away and heading for the main road into the village.

"Excuse me, one moment," Professor McGonagall said, and, right in front of us, turned into a tabby cat with a greying muzzle and spectacle markings around her eyes. I watched, mouth open, as she leapt – slightly stiffly - onto the garden fence, then onto the porch roof, and again up to the very top of the house, using the windowsills as steps.

Craning my head upwards, I saw McGonagall prowl along the ridge of the roof, her head turning from side to side. Then she stiffened, looking west, towards the hill behind which the Scamanders lived, and I knew instantly she had seen my sister.

"Looks like she's spotted her," the Minister said, approvingly. "She didn't get far, then."

I broke away from the Minister and Vector, as tabby-cat McGonagall began to make her way down, and ran through the open garden gate.

"I'll go stop her!" I yelled, setting off in the direction McGonagall had been looking. I hurtled along the road, and a few minutes later, gasping for breath, saw the familiar figure of Juliet in the distance. My heart thudded as I began to catch up with her.

But – wait – she _wasn't_ running away, after all. I slowed, in confusion. My sister was walking towards me, head held high, with a strange, unexpected spring in her step.

"Juliet," I gasped, as I reached her. "What – where have you been?"

Juliet took my hands, looking directly at me. Her eyes glittered with a strange triumph and I saw, to my surprise, her hair and clothes were wet. She smelled – inexplicably – of seawater.

"I've been to see Newt," she said. "And I've fixed it."

"Fixed _– what_?" I was lost. My sister was trying to tell me something – something important – and I scanned her victorious face desperately. "What do you mean? Juliet, what have you done?"

Behind us, I heard hasty footsteps; McGonagall, Vector and the Minister came up behind me.

Juliet looked at the four of us steadily, tilting her chin upwards in that old determined way I knew so well.

"I don't need to go to that Selburton school anymore," she said calmly.

The silence was so absolute you could have heard a penny drop. For a moment I wondered if even the birds had stopped singing.

"I've got rid of my magic," Juliet continued. "I'm a Squib now. Just like Jennifer."

My mouth dropped open. Already slightly dizzy from my frantic run, I thought, suddenly, I was going to faint. Vector caught me, neatly, as I staggered backwards, and I clung to her instinctively as I stared at Juliet in astonishment, and mounting horror.

The three witches were giving each other bewildered glances.

"What in Merlin's name are you talking about?" the Minister shot back. "That's not possible."

But Juliet was telling the truth. I knew her inside out. At the very least, if she _hadn't_ given away her magic, she absolutely believed she had. For just one moment, I wondered if my sister hadn't just gone a little mad.

"Juliet," I pleaded with her, letting go of Vector. "What do you mean? And what's Newt got to do with it?"

" _Newt_?" McGonagall repeated sharply. "Scamander?"

Juliet nodded.

"Yes," she said. "He's got some magical fish that feed off magic. They're his secret project. I let them drink mine...every last drop."

"You – you cannot be serious..." McGonagall said, staring at Juliet as though she had never seen her before.

Juliet pulled out her wand and pointed it at a small piece of brick which was lying on the side of the road. " _Wingardium Leviosa!"_ she cried, with a confident swish and flick of her wand. Nothing happened. " _Engorgio! Reducto!_ " Still nothing.

Vector's hands tightened on my shoulders. The Minister for Magic put her hands over her mouth and closed her eyes.

"That's quite enough," McGonagall snapped. "Dear Godric...I – I don't believe – _Newt_ , you say? That meddling – interfering old – oh, _he_ never had the slightest regard for rules, either! Child – how _could_ you possibly do this to yourself?"

She looked sickened at the thought. I guessed that in wizard terms, it was equivalent to gouging out your own eyes.

But Juliet took a deep breath and looked McGonagall right in the face.

"It's reversible," she said, levelly.

"Well then!" McGonagall said, looking enormously relieved. "You'd better go and reverse it, Miss Belstone! Off you go!"

But Juliet was shaking her head.

"No," she said. I couldn't believe her coolness.

McGonagall sputtered. "Don't be ridiculous, Miss Belstone. You get back to the Scamanders and sort yourself out – this instant! Or, Merlin help me, I'll drag Newt out here myself to put things right!"

"No," Juliet repeated, vehemently, almost visibly digging in her heels. "It's _my_ magic, not yours, so it's mine to give away if I want. Why should you force me to take it back? If I do, I have to go to Selburton, which you _know_ is awful. If I stay like this – well, at least I'll be with my sister, just like we always should have been!"

The Minister and McGonagall looked helplessly at each other, and Juliet's lips curved in a half-smile.

"But there is one other possibility," she said, raising her voice slightly. "Newt reckons that we could probably give half of the power back to me, and half to Jennifer. So either we can both be Squibs...or, we could both be witches."

"Juliet!" I said, flabbergasted. "When – _how_ – was _that_ what you went to see Newt about earlier? How could you not tell me?" My voice rose to an indignant squeak.

"Hold it right there," McGonagall said loudly. "Let me get this straight. You and Mr Scamander have collaborating to redistribute your own magical powers between yourself and your sister, by means of a magical fish previously unknown to wizard-kind." Her nostrils flared as she glared at Juliet, who looked boldly back.

"Ten points for ingenuity," said the Minister suddenly, behind me, and, to my amazement, I heard her actually give a snort of incredulous laughter.

Only Vector was now looking dubious. "One power, between two..." she murmured. "Their magic would undoubtedly be weakened by such a division..."

My shock was slowly subsiding. I looked at Juliet, standing, quietly triumphant - at the Minister and Vector, who were now both regarding me as though I was a curious mathematical problem to be solved – and my chest began to tighten: with resentment, and simmering anger.

"With respect, Professor," the Minister said, slowly. "It is a fascinating idea. If it works, it could change history..."

"Yes," McGonagall said, after a long pause. "Well, it certainly would do that."

"And," the Minister added, looking kindly at me, "it really was unjust to begin with. It's hard on any Squib sibling, but a _twin_..."

I could see McGonagall was hesitating. "I suppose," she said reluctantly, "we could allow it. Half powers should be sufficient – it is more than some of my students appear to have had... Both girls could attend Selburton, after all..."

This was the final straw – as much to my own surprise as anyone else's, suddenly, I snapped.

"Stop it! Stop it _now_!" I yelled, and they all stepped back, looking shocked. "Look at you all! I am _here_ , you know. Don't I even get a say in any of this? Forcing magic on me – choosing which school I go to – I'm not a – a guinea pig! What if I don't even want to do any of this, would you care? I told you – I've been telling _you_ , Juliet, for ages – I'm happy being a plain old Squib! I'll be a scientist one day, and I'll research magic for fun, and that's just _fine_ by me!"

There was a ringing silence. The three witches looked surprised and embarrassed. But I didn't care. I was staring at Juliet. And – for, perhaps, the first time in two years – she looked back at me with real understanding in her eyes.

"I know, Jen," she said. "And I told Newt already, if you didn't want to do it I was happy to be a Squib forever and go to your school and everything."

This floored me, just for a moment. But then I shook my head. "Oh, heck, Juliet," I said. "You'd hate it – you _love_ magic – and you get so bored whenever I talk about my lessons. You do – you know you do."

Juliet folded her arms. "Doesn't mattert. You've been so brave and patient all along, doing all those stupid things for me just 'cause you knew how much I wanted it. I took way too long to realise that. So, I already decided, it's up to you. And if –" her voice only trembled slightly, here "— you want us both to be Squibs, that's fine. I'll go to the Muggle school, and –"

"One moment, please," Professor McGonagall interrupted, suddenly. "Miss Belstone. I simply cannot see a lifetime of magical potential just thrown away. It would be a truly terrible waste for you to end up in a Muggle school. Perhaps this is against my better judgement...but, I will reverse my earlier decision about Selburton." She took a deep breath. "There _can_ be a place at Hogwarts for you both, if you decide you would like it."

Juliet gave a muffled gasp at this.

"On the condition," McGonagall added, her eyebrows contracting severely, "that you agree to a partial memory wipe. I will not have the knowledge of your exploits loose in my school. And it goes without saying that I would expect impeccable behaviour from you both."

Well – this _was_ a turn up for the books. A place at Hogwarts – at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry...For one long moment, Juliet's eyes pleaded with me, and I felt as though my whole heart was filling up and brimming over.

"Thank you, Professor," I said, quietly. "A place at Hogwarts...that does change my decision. You're right; it _would_ be a terrible waste for Juliet to throw away her magic like this. To become a Squib like me."

The atmosphere on that quiet road on the edge of Ottery St Mary was taut and elastic; palpable tension filled the air as four pairs of eyes fixed on me. I took a deep, deep breath.

"I want to stay just as I am," I said. "But only if you'll take Juliet back to Hogwarts, with all her powers intact. We shouldn't go messily dividing her powers between us – it's not natural."

Juliet, stunned, looked at me wordlessly. Vector reached out and touched my shoulder gently.

"You are wise beyond your years, child," she said softly. "I've rarely seen one so young, so clear-sighted..."

McGonagall still hadn't replied, and I looked up at her as steadily as I could.

"That – that's my choice," I said. "If you'll allow it, Headmistress. Otherwise, I know both of us would prefer to be Squibs, than to go to Selburton."

After what seemed an agonisingly long time, McGonagall drew her breath in loudly through her nose; then, she signalled her assent with a curt nod.

"Very well," she said crisply, and relief flooded through me. "Juliet – if you want to come back to Hogwarts, remember, my two conditions: first, we will wipe the memory of your exploits, and second, any future shenanigans and you're straight off to Selburton."

"That's – fair enough," Juliet replied, haltingly. "Thank you, Professor..." She still looked a little dazed.

A little stab of pain went through my heart, but I knew with every fibre of my being that this was the right choice.

"If I've learned anything these last two years, it's that it's _great_ to be different," I said to her, with feeling. "We'll always be sisters, and best friends. Nothing'll _ever_ change that. But with all your powers, you'll make a brilliant witch, Juliet. And I'll – I'll be a brilliant scientist! Well, hopefully, an adequate one at least."

The next moment, I had the breath knocked out of me as Juliet threw herself at me, enfolding me in a fierce hug. Laughing, I hugged her back – my whirlwind sister, my other, crazier half. When she let me go, I saw her eyes were shining with tears – but she was nodding – nodding and crying at the same time.

"A brilliant one," she said at last. "Oh, Jennifer. You'll definitely be a brilliant one..."

* * *

 **A/N: And that, my dear readers, is The End.**

 **Or very nearly.** **I will be posting an Epilogue in which I will let you know how certain things unfold in the future of this universe, and with that my full acknowledgements. But for now, thanks an absolute million for reading and I hope you enjoyed it!**

 **I would truly love to hear what you think of this ending. Are you happy for them both? Would you have liked to see things go a different way?**

 **I'm also curious to know - after everything that happened, does anyone have a favourite twin, and if so, why? (I know who mine is!)**

 **~Beedle**

 **x**


	38. Epilogue

_Fourteen years later:_ _July, 2034_

Jennifer

The train trundled out of Peterborough station, slowly picking up speed. Shops, office blocks and houses flashed past, giving way to flat grey countryside. I sipped my latte, readjusted my work laptop on the table in front of me, and carried on typing. The journey from Edinburgh to London took around five and a half hours and I still had an hour to go. When Juliet visited me and Lorcan, it took about five seconds for her to Apparate, but I didn't mind. Today, it was a good chance to work on the article I was submitting to IJEC, the International Journal of Chemical Engineering. It was a follow-up to one they had accepted six months ago which had been pretty well-received. These days I was focusing on the application of nanotechnology to environmental research and development. It was a rewarding sector to be in; teams like mine across the globe were making colossal progress in making renewable energy cleaner, cheaper and more efficient than fossil fuels.

I was finding it harder than usual to concentrate, though. After a while, I absentmindedly reached into the front pocket of my laptop case, where I'd hidden the letter, and ran my fingers over the thick parchment, as I had done several times already this journey. Before long I was mulling over the contents of the letter, my left hand restlessly tapping the computer keys. A frisson of excitement coursed through me again. Lorcan had been delighted too; he was already dying to arrange a celebratory dinner with the Scamanders, Weasleys and my parents, though I'd insisted he wait. Juliet had to be the next to know. I couldn't wait to surprise her! I chuckled to myself, imagining her reaction.

I wished I could tell Tara and Ben, too, but even though the three of us were really good friends, there were always a few things I'd have to keep hidden from them. They were both working in London, nowadays...Ellie, too. I'd definitely try to see them all before I went back, maybe see if we could arrange a proper reunion sometime...encourage Lennie up from Devon and track Zac down – I knew from his social media posts he was working in Liverpool. Jasmin had somehow totally dropped off everyone's radar. I missed the old gang...and Edinburgh was a _long_ way from all of them.

Eventually realising I wasn't going to get much further with the article today, I carefully saved my work, clicked my laptop shut and slid it into its leather case, which was monogrammed with the letters UOE and the university's crest. For the rest of the journey I would allow myself to daydream...

* * *

Juliet

I looked impatiently at the clock, and again out of the office window. Time was crawling by today! I always finished early on Fridays, but it was the day we wrapped up the weekly paperwork. Always a little dull in comparison to the rest of my week. I usually found my job very entertaining; this last year, particularly, since my promotion. The years of struggling by in a lowly administrative position had paid off, just as Professor Vector had advised me before she retired. Last year, I'd finally made it onto the Department's Accidental Magic Reversal Squad, which meant from Monday to Thursday I'd get to be first on the scene of various disastrous magical catastrophes, and help to patch them up. I got a real kick out of never knowing what bizarre and random events my week would hold.

But Fridays...ugh. Slowly filing my reports, I gave a small sigh and glanced out of the window again, jiggling in my seat.

"Itchy feet, Juliet?"

I jumped, and looked guiltily over at the doorway. My boss, Helena Jordan, had stuck her head into the office and was watching me with an amused expression. Ragnor, Quinn and Sally – my fellow Squad members – all looked up from their desks.

"Oh," I said sheepishly. "Sorry. It's just my sister's coming down from Edinburgh today. I'm meeting her in Diagon Alley later. She's got some big news, apparently."

"Has she, now?" Helena said, pursing her lips, but her nose gave a giveaway twitch. I held my breath. Generally, my boss was in a good mood or a glowering temper. She was sort of unpredictable, but we all agreed we were lucky to have her as Head of Department. Most of the other Department Heads in the Ministry were quill-pushing, crusty old witches and wizards. (Plus, as I'd recently discovered, Helena had a _very_ dreamy brother who worked in the Department of International Magical Co-operation...).

"Go on then, you lot, get lost." Helena flapped her hands at us. "You've all worked hard this week. You deserve an extra hour."

She chuckled as all four of us leapt to our feet, chairs clattering, and disappeared back to her office.

"Sweet!" Quinn said, clicking shut his briefcase.

"Nice one, Juliet," Ragnor grinned at me. "See you next week."

I threw on my cloak. "Yeah, have a great weekend, guys."

"Say hi to Jennifer from me!"

I waved my thanks to Sally – she'd met Jennifer a few times – and bounded towards the elevator, my heart singing.

Ten minutes later I was in Diagon Alley, glorying in the late afternoon sunshine as I wandered over its cobbles towards Flourish and Blotts. Jennifer would still be on the train now, so I might as well drop in on Hugo. I pushed open the door and spotted him straight away, halfway up a ladder, putting a heavy book back on a high shelf. He turned his head as he heard the door and his face lit up.

"Juliet! How're you do—whoa! Oh no!"

The heavy book slipped from his grasp and he snatched vainly at it as it plummeted to the floor.

" _Immobulus!_ " I said quickly, my wand in my hand before I knew it. The book froze in mid-air then gently floated to the floor. Hugo was wobbling dangerously and I hastily used another Freezing Charm on his ladder. He sighed in relief and climbed down.

"How'd you react _so_ fast," he said wistfully, picking up the book from the floor. "Thanks, by the way."

"To be honest, Hugo, if I ever spring a surprise visit on you, I expect you to drop something," I teased. Hugo was only slightly less accident-prone than he'd been back at Hogwarts.

He grinned sheepishly. "Aren't you at work this afternoon, then?"

"Nah, we got let off early," I said. "Jennifer's visiting, Hugo! She says she's got some big news."

"Ooh, what?" Hugo said keenly.

"No idea...hey – I don't suppose you could join us? We're meeting for an ice-cream sundae in Fortescue's."

Hugo looked doubtfully towards the back of the shop, where the assistant manager was unpacking boxes of books.

"I dunno...it's just us two today. Although it _has_ been really quiet...hey, um, Barnabus...?"

The assistant manager was already following our conversation – he nodded tolerantly before Hugo even asked. "Go on then, you can knock off a bit early, I won't tell the boss. You can do the same for me next week, it's my wife's birthday..."

"Oh, sure," Hugo said enthusiastically. "Brilliant, thanks..."

Delighted, we both headed outside and meandered through Diagon Alley. We knew it inside out by now, of course, but it was still a great place to hang out.

"Ali's shop's still closed, then..." I said, as we passed the tiny, dusty-windowed property. It had been boarded up for years, ever since Ali Bashir had fled the country. Once Hermione Granger had heard our story, she'd wrestled the full details out of us both about Ali's side-business in magic carpets and tipped off the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Ali must have had a contact or two in the Ministry, as when the Aurors turned up to arrest him, he was nowhere to be found. I didn't reckon he'd ever resurface; after all, if he did, a welcome committee would be ready to escort him to Azkaban.

"Yup," Hugo said, glancing at it. "You know, I can kind of remember what happened back then, in Squeeze Lane, now?"

"No! Really?" I asked, intently interested.

"Yeah," he replied, rubbing the back of his head thoughtfully. "It's been coming back in flashes for a while. I think I remember most of it now, actually."

"That's...surprising," I said. I still found my own grey, blank patch in my memories unsettling – I never looked back there, if I could. Jennifer and Hugo had, after I'd left Hogwarts, filled me in on everything. So I knew in theory what we'd apparently got up to. It sounded wildly dangerous and improbable. But perhaps McGonagall's Memory Charm was stronger than Ali's. I'd certainly not had any flashes of recollections, not yet, anyway.

We reached Fortescue's, found a table in the sunshine where we could watch everyone go by, and ordered cups of steaming hot chocolate while we waited for Jennifer to arrive. She rarely visited me, just because it was so much quicker for me to Apparate up to her and Lorcan's flat in Edinburgh, which I did every few weeks. Often I joined her at Pride of Portree Quidditch matches, too; she never missed one of Lorcan's and she absolutely _loved_ Quidditch. To my own surprise, I'd begun to enjoy it too - her enthusiasm was pretty infectious and it _was_ thrilling whenever Lorcan scored.

"So, how's the family?" I asked Hugo.

"Oh, they're doing great," Hugo said enthusiastically. "Mum still loves her job, she says it was always her happy place... and I have some news, too."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yup. Jennifer might already know, from Lorcan, but Rose said I could tell you. She and Lysander are expecting."

I choked on my hot chocolate. "No way!"

"Yeah, in January...so, Lysander's squeezing in one more trip – first, to Papua New Guinea...Newt used to worry that the Timichugu could be exploited, you know, by wizards and witches with the wrong ideas."

"Definitely," I said, nodding. "Newt said to me he was happy for the fish to help me just that one time, but that he was going to keep them a secret, for their own sake."

"Yeah...and now the shoal's got so big, Lysander wants to try to move some to some remote South Sea reefs. He's planning to explore the islands too, afterwards, in case he comes across anything he can add to the new edition of _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_...So he'll be away for a few months, then, back for baby time."

"That's – well, pretty cool." I said, wrapping my head around the news. No, it _was_ great news, but I was a bit taken aback; I definitely hadn't expected my friends to be having kids already. I was only twenty-eight...it wasn't anywhere near my own agenda, yet. And Lysander...all of a sudden, I wondered.

"Hugo – d'you reckon that's what Jennifer's come to tell me?" I said, thunderstruck. "She and Lorcan – I bet that's it – they're having a baby, aren't they!"

"Oh, are we? Gosh, that's news to me."

I jumped as Jennifer slid into a chair beside me, looking enormously amused. She gave me a quick hug and grinned at Hugo.

"Hey, Hugo, didn't expect to see y—"

"So," I interrupted, quickly, "what _is_ the big news?"

"Hello, Juliet, nice to see you, how's the flat, how's the job, what've you been up to, et cetera, et cetera," Jennifer said, laughing, and picked up the menu. "First things first. I've just had a six-hour journey. I'm going to get sundaes...what do you guys want?"

She waved the waiter over and gave him our order, and stole a sip of my hot chocolate while she waited. Despite my badgering, she refused to crack until the sundaes arrived, although her eyes were sparkling and her cheeks were pink with excitement.

"Okay," she said at last, taking a spoonful of butterscotch ice cream. "So, listen. Last week, I got this letter – from your Mum, Hugo."

"Mum?" Hugo said, taken aback. "What about?"

Obviously he – like me – had no idea why Hermione Granger, ex-Minister for Magic and now Hogwarts Librarian, would be writing to my sister.

"Well..."

I bounced in my seat as Jennifer reached down, carefully unzipped the front pocket of her sleek leather laptop case, and pulled out a letter.

"Here , take a – oh, Juliet!" Jennifer burst out laughing as I snatched it from her hands.

"You were being deliberately slow," I fired back, tugging the letter from its envelope. Hugo leaned over and we read it together.

Halfway through, Hugo gave a muffled squeak and shot Jennifer a delighted glance. As for me – I was staggered. Absolutely staggered. But –

" _Jen_ ," I choked, at last. "That's – I don't believe – this is...Muggle Studies Professor! That's amazing!"

"I know," Jennifer said. "Lorcan took me up to Hogwarts for the interview yesterday. And I got it, Juliet – I got it!"

I clapped my hand over my mouth. Tears were suddenly spilling down my cheeks. After struggling for a while, unable to find any adequate words, I simply got up and wrapped my sister in an enormous bear hug.

"I wrote to your Mum to thank her for recommending me to the Headmaster for the position, Hugo," Jennifer said, in a slightly muffled voice. "Me! A Squib! But please tell her, when you see her, how much I meant it. Honestly, it's perfect."

"So – you're giving up your position at the University of Edinburgh?" I let go, suddenly a little surprised. Jen _loved_ her job there...but she was shaking her head.

"It's not a full-time position, not like most of the teaching jobs there," Jennifer said. "It's only OWL and NEWT level, and apparently not many students ever choose it. The Headmaster said they'll be able to schedule all my classes and work over just two days a week, and I can definitely fit my research and lectures at the University into the rest of my week. You know, being a Squib in the Muggle world actually put me way above the other candidates, guys? He believes I'll bring a whole new level to the classes...and I asked, and he's even happy for me to create a module on Muggle sciences, see how well it goes down, you know... _and_ , you'll never guess what?"

I couldn't believe there was even more news to come. "What?"

Jennifer took a deep breath. "So, Hermione also talked to the Head about the thing I'd discussed ages ago, you know. Studying magic itself. I've been given an office, just a small one. They're happy for me to set up a little laboratory in there for research. Hermione's taken a personal interest in the outcome, so she'll be helping me, a bit..."

Hugo looked really pleased. "Yeah, Mum'd love that," he said. "That's awesome news, Jennifer. Congratulations."

"Yes, definitely," I said, the reality starting to sink in and happiness flooding every little bit of me. "This calls for a real celebration...Butterbeer, everyone? At that new place just down the Alley?"

"Ooh, please," Hugo and Jennifer said, together, and we got up to leave, gathering our things. I folded the parchment I was still holding, and slipped it back in the envelope. Then I paused, as something occurred to me.

"Hey, you know what, Jen..."

"What, Juliet?"

I smiled at her as I handed the envelope back.

"Well – it's seventeen years late – but you finally got your Hogwarts letter."

Jennifer picked up her laptop case and slid the letter back into the front pocket, smiling to herself. "Yes," she said. "Yes, I suppose I did."

* * *

 **A/N: And that really is The End! How did you like everyone's futures?** **If you have any questions about anything I didn't answer in the Epilogue, just ask.**

* * *

 **Acknowledgements**  
(when in lists, names are arranged alphabetically)

I would like to extend my thanks to each and every one of you who has read, followed and/or added _The Divide_ to your favourites. You _all_ rock.

However, a special shout-out to those who have reviewed every, or almost every, chapter right from the beginning. Without the support, interest and good cheer from my loyal band of regular reviewers I honestly don't think I would ever have completed this story. You've been checking in and encouraging me on a chapterly basis for nearly two years! **Babbitty Rabbitty, Blithering Idiot, Frozen789, I love music, LucyLuna, Swooping Evil, Tonirae –** thank you for everything. The regular discussions we had really helped shape this story. I've loved getting to know you guys, and reading your own awesome stories.

A big thank you to **Synchronicity911** for recommending _The Divide_ in the Writers Anonymous forum on an OC thread, and to **Lauderdale** for letting me know. That was an unexpected pleasure.

 **Caver Floyd, DarkBalance, Garbayim, Hexterior, hmweasley, Mrs FireFly, Sakura Lisel, shadowkat678, SwordSeer,** **WeasleySeeker,** I really appreciated your extra-detailed feedback, corrections, and/or suggestions for improvements. **Tinyfox2** , your quirky reviews always made me laugh.

Four specific plot suggestions that made it in were having a chapter set in Godric's Hollow ( **Frozen789** ), Juliet tutoring Hugo in Charms ( **LucyLuna** ), Jennifer taking self-defence lessons to improve her confidence ( **SwordSeer** ) and Ali Bashir getting his comeuppance in the Epilogue ( **Tonirae** ). Cheers, guys.

To all my other lovely reviewers, your comments were always gladly received!

Lastly, I'd like to close these acknowledgements with special extra credit to **LucyLuna** , whose incredibly detailed analysis of every chapter and behind-the-scenes discussions have been invaluable in making this story more rounded, carefully thought-out, and developed than it would otherwise have been. She has been an absolute brick. And her stories, by the way, are excellent.

I might resurface with another fic sometime. Till then, a million thanks, again, for reading.

~Beedle


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